


Blasphemers [ENGLISH VERSION]

by raynesevenx



Category: Black Veil Brides, d.r.u.g.s.
Genre: Andley - Freeform, Andy! with! CHD! cause we love some drama, Asexual Character, Black Veil Brides Army, Bottom Andy Biersack, BoyxBoy, CHD, Chronic Illness, Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Homoromantic, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Romance, Set the world on fire, Touring, Warped Tour, don't we!, goodsack, warped tour 2011
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 86,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25616062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynesevenx/pseuds/raynesevenx
Summary: TW: Eating disorders, mentions of suicide, self harmIt's the summer of 2011. Andy Biersack of Black Veil Brides is trying to heal both his broken ribs and a broken heart. Matt Good is here to find veggie sandwiches for him. They hang out everyday but claim that they're not together, no, not at all, who would even think of this and why? Just friends, right? My ass.Andy's recent breakup is still affecting him. As much as he wishes his ex away, that's not possible. So what's possible?Telling a story. Holding on to the possibilities that are still left. It's not that bad, right?And oh yeah, the most important thing. A piece of your heart might be missing and you'll still be able to love, yet, even though your heart is intact, sometimes the only thing you are able to feel is hate.Goodsack.
Relationships: Andy Biersack/Ashley Purdy, Andy Biersack/Matt Good, past Andy Biersack/Ashley Purdy
Comments: 23
Kudos: 14





	1. Do it twice and take pictures

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Blasphemers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25424971) by [raynesevenx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynesevenx/pseuds/raynesevenx). 



> Trigger warning: this is NOT a story about an eating disorder, however some parts might be triggering to the readers. I am only using this fanfic as a way to cope with some past events I've experienced and I am working it out through the characters in this piece.  
> If you are triggered by not so kind descriptions of food and complaining about fast food, please consider twice if you really want to proceed to read this.

The food tent just before the noon was empty, thankfully.    
That was good, at least they could enjoy a moment of peace. And shade.    
Too bad they weren’t allowed to sleep in there.    
And too bad that the most comfortable piece of furniture was a wooden bench with no backrest, a curse when your ribs were broken. 

  
“You look as if someone made you walk here all the way from Mountain View” said Matt, amused, placing a bag of chips, a grilled chicken hamburger and a bottle of water on the table in front of Andy. 

  
“That’s how I feel, actually” - Biersack sighed, reaching towards the chips with a dismal movement, already feeling guilty from eating burnt potatoes, probably fried on cheap fat, reheated ten times already. 

  
The journey from Mountain View to Bonner Springs, from one Warped Tour stop to another on a bus, not a plane, was exhausting for everyone, let alone for a slip of a boy with broken ribs. Even though they’ve almost healed by now.

“Poor thing” - Good ruffled the younger boy’s hair lovingly and took some of his chips. - “That’s only so you don’t eat that much unhealthy food” - he said with an innocent smile, when Andy gave him a death glare and focused on his burger. 

  
Andy was cute. For some reason he made Matt’s knees go weak, every time the singer looked at him.    
Were they together?   
Neither of them knew that. They were friends, yeah, maybe with some benefits, but there wasn’t much else, so far, at least. Besides, Good didn’t want to push things too fast, Biersack had just ended a tumultuous relationship and it didn’t seem like he was looking for another one.   
“What time are you playing today?” - he asked the black haired boy, just when he had his mouth full of another bite of his burger.    
Andy put five fingers up as a way of saying “5 pm” and reached towards a bottle of water.    
He still was trying to remember to drink enough water, as it was easy to end up dehydrated during the summer. Too bad that he kept forgetting about it and two pint-sized bottles a day were considered a success.

“Same stage as always?” - the older from the two, Matt, asked just to make sure, being certain that he would come and see Black Veil Brides to support his… Friend? Not-a-boyfriend-yet?   
Andy nodded and finally managed to swallow the miserable burger bite, so he could speak. The question was if he wanted to.    
Tiredness, shitty food that he made himself eat and pretended he liked it, jealousy (hoping it was well hidden) of Matt’s battered, spicy prawns, nostalgic “West End Girls” playing from the speakers and a headache, still somewhere in the back of his head made him realize how much different from the others he was. Again.    
It was funny, because it had never been like that before. Until he grew up.    
His pretending was excellent, pretending just so that too many people wouldn’t find out about what they shouldn’t know about. The last thing he wanted were those sympathetic looks. The explanations he would have to give in all the interviews.    
Writing long posts about how he felt, as if anyone cared, as if he could somehow give away just a bit of his fate misery to someone else.    
Did he want to trade his life with someone else?   
Sometimes, but only occasionally and only if he was allowed to keep his success and the band. Cause if everything went a different way, would he still choose the same path? Or maybe he would be an actor, like he had been planned at first? A lawyer? A doctor? That would be a total plot twist.    
So he pretended to be fine. But was he really pretending? Maybe he was fine, indeed, he didn’t feel sick after all. For sure, he had solid evidence for that, things were so good that he managed to get to the top of music industry, to become a recognizable singer, without too much effort. And his band was finally starting to get recognition, not disapproval.    
Why wasn’t he fully happy then?   
And, worse, he was aware no one could change any of this. No one could take just a bit of his misery.    
So he was stuck between happiness and disaster, lonely in his suffering, certain that none of his friends would understand. Because they didn’t know how it was. And he was the only one standing out this way among all his friends.    
Yet, despite it all, he still felt like one of them. Unless his physical wellbeing let him down, there were no differences between his bandmates or Matt. Moments like those, he was grateful that his parents raised him like a(n almost) healthy child. In a way that hospital visits and stays, all of this wasn’t a traumatic memory but a minor inconvenience. So that going to checkups was like going to a second home and not to a place where he would want to run away from.    
That’s how it was until recently, at least. Now, after all those years and last year’s, he didn’t know how to call it, adventure with a planned-unplanned surgery he had known for years would happen sooner or later, as his doctor put it, even though that sooner or later seemed much more distant back then. It came way quicker than he had expected, but well, at least it was over now, wasn’t it?    
The only complication was… depression? The state of constant apathy that wouldn’t allow him to enjoy new experiences, the tour, another one in the last couple of months.    
He tried therapy but it barely helped. He didn’t feel understood, except for maybe just at the very beginning. He let go of any attempts to communicate with the therapist later, they lead nowhere.    
And also, except for all those “bad” moments, he felt fine. And he was happy, truly happy. Sometimes. More and more often.    
In a way it was the tour, but most likely because Matt was there. The fact that someone was finally giving him attention he needed and that he could repay with the same thing.    
So far, every time he was making friends with someone, Andy was afraid he was too… not too boring, but too awkward? To make one stay by his side. And even in Good’s company he still tended to panic because of that, but nevertheless, their friendship was blooming, slowly moving towards something more, something Andy needed after a tumultuous relationship he only recently got out of and he still wasn’t sure if he made the right decision.    
Matt made Andy feel appreciated for who he was and somehow… taken care of?    
Because for Biersack, it was enough to break down when someone spoke to him in a different tone or didn’t message him for a couple of days. Or when he was the only one to start and keep the conversation going. This made him feel… unwanted. Because it was so easy to find someone to replace him. Someone who loved parties, going out. Someone who was talkative around new people. Who was able to party drunk every night of the week and only face the consequences of being tired and hungover. 

Andy tried to believe that it was only his imagination that made him create the worst scenarios, but more and more often he was wondering if maybe he was indeed somehow visibly different, oh dear, “a little impaired”, especially while touring when everyone was able to get along and party, and he was left alone. 

  
“You’re really talkative today, aren’t you?” - Matt laughed, grabbing a chip from his portion sprinkled with cheese and with mayo poured all over. 

  
“I just really disapprove of your eating habits” - Andy replied, even though he was jealous of that. He wanted to not have to face the consequences (in his own paranoid way of thinking) of eating fast foods and consume those chips, but he could only dream about it. 

  
“At least you’re the responsible one of the two of us” - Matt put some more chips into his mouth and brushed black fringe out of his face. It was getting a little bit too long. He noticed something that looked like agonizing jealousy in Andy’s eyes. He was feeling really sorry for the boy, even though the singer hated any form of pity. - “I need to join you” - Matt added, hoping this would make the younger boy feel better. Andy let out a weak laugh. - “We’re gonna eat something actually cooked for dinner, what do you think? In town.”

  
“Are you taking me on a date?” - Andy asked, pretending he didn’t have any hopes for that, not at all, why. More and more often he caught himself regretting that his only relationship with Matt was a friendship (with benefits). He didn’t want to ruin it, unsure if what he felt was more than just a crush. What if he felt like trapped in a cage (again) in a relationship and realized that he preferred Matt only as a friend? Everything would fall apart. 

  
“A movie date and a walk under the moonlight later” - Good replied, reaching towards a large box of Greek salad that he took for both of them. He put half of it on an empty paper plate and left the rest of it for Biersack. - “What do you say?”

  
“I have to think about it” - the younger boy replied and took some salad. The only problem was that his poor ribs didn’t approve of this movement and he let out a quiet groan. 

  
“Aww, my poor little thing” - Matt laughed, making Andy send him a death glare, before focusing on the olives and salad, leaving the feta cheese out. He didn’t like it that much and moreover, he had enough of greasy food for one meal. Chips were enough. 

  
“Hey, don’t get mad, princess” - said Good seeing Andy’s irritated face expression. - “I can carry you to the bus if you want?”

  
“I can walk” - Andy replied. He wasn’t in the mood, not today. Especially that he was already feeling shitty enough, the last thing he wanted were everyone’s questions if something had happened. 

***

The evening came faster than expected. Matt, as promised, came half an hour before BVB’s set, early enough to tease Andy.   
“Is my princess wearing his makeup already?” - he asked, grinning at the sight of Andy’s face paint, his shoulders and chest still bare.    
“If you call me a princess once again, I swear, you’re gonna play the next D.R.U.G.S. show with makeup on” - said Andy irritated and soaked a thick powder brush into a pot of body paint, apparently non-toxic. At least that’s what Jon said. 

  
“I’m waiting, princess” - Matt chippered and moved away when the black haired man jumped in his direction with a brush dirty from black paint. - “Come on, put your makeup on or you’re gonna be late.”

  
Overall, Good was happy to have found Andy in the middle of putting the warpaint on.    
Biersack was sitting on the amber-colored leather tourbus couch, wearing only jeans.    
His pale, bare chest was slowly being covered in skewed lines, all making a pattern that made sense to him only, it seemed. They looked a bit like the ribs and breastbone line and he started with those, likely on purpose, because of the scars. One of them, the biggest one, went across his chest from the top to the bottom of it. A few smaller ones accompanied it, a little lower, just above where Andy’s bandages were placed. The visible scar was now covered with paint so that it disappeared.   
Not that he didn’t like those scars, actually, it was funny when people stared at them. It was just that around Matt, Andy’s self confidence always disappeared. And he also didn't want any questions and speculations at the show and after, if he met any fans.    
He didn’t feel ready to admit to the world what was wrong with him. Or maybe, not wrong, but what was an issue. 

He soaked the brush in the paint and painted all the remaining lines on his slim torso. Its excessive thinness caught Matt’s attention. Well, it was good that Andy was tiny, his body didn’t have trouble functioning, but Good didn’t want the boy to be too skinny, as it had consequences too.    
Because of his slim and almost perfect silhouette, Biersack seemed somehow unreal to the guitarist. And because of that, he didn't want to lose him. For instance for the priceless feeling when the younger boy was hugging him, so that Matt was holding his lean torso with both hands, holding him close.    
Matt was average, compared to Andy, who stood out even wearing usual clothes.   
Next to not-a-teen-anymore wearing faux leather leggins, a leather jacket, with black hair reaching far below his shoulders, waved and teased, the six-years older man seemed average. Fine, his quite long emo haircut made him stand out a bit, just like the tattoos and he tended to wear dark clothes, but overall he looked just like one of all those musicians of those post-hardcore bands, so popular at that time. The only thing that made him different from the others maybe, was his height, way above six feet.    
And because of that it was easier for Andy to hug Matt. 

  
“Why are you staring at me like that?” - Andy asked suspiciously, making Matt come back from being lost in his thoughts.    
For the last couple of minutes, the guitarist was looking at him without blinking, which kinda worried the younger boy. - “Do you wanna hear the same old story of the misery of my life?” - Andy laughed.   
Matt shook his head, mad at himself for letting Andy catch him or something like this. He didn’t want to intimidate the singer, nor did he want to force himself to Biersack with something more than friendship. Not when he had just finished a few-months long adventure with the bass player of hiss band and didn’t recall it was a good one.    
Andy surely needed some freedom, not another relationship. 

  
“I’m just trying to memorize as much as I can, to recreate it this evening” - Good replied and it didn’t sound even slightly convincing.

“Don’t worry, I’ll do your makeup” - Andy said with an innocent smile and proceeded to put the paint on his bare left arm, with no sign of tattoos. He had one on his right arm, Batman, that looked kinda like a pretty no one actually knew what if you saw it from distance. He had got it before he found out that he shouldn’t have had, it was too risky.    
So he gave up his dream of being covered in ink, happy that his lip was already pierced before the doctors could forbid it. 

  
“Can’t wait, princess” - Good chuckled and jumped, when Jake unexpectedly appeared behind him and slapped his shoulder lightly. 

  
“You two sleeping together again? I’m really getting the impression that you’re hiding something” - he laughed, certainly drunk at that point. Another thing that Andy was jealous of, was the possibility of getting shitfaced without any health consequences in the distant future. Excluding the stinging in the side in the morning, when you began to sober up.    
Andy felt like he couldn’t get along with his drunk friends. Firstly, because they acted like idiots and secondly, because it was so easy, get drunk and forget, just for a moment. Oh, how much he craved that, an escape just for a few hours. So simple.    
He sent Jake a death glare in response to his stupid questions, but that seemed to only having gotten him started, because he continued:   
“Our little rainbow sunshine is gonna complain that he’s cold at night if you don’t stay. He likes youuuu.”

  
Andy blushed and Matt looked at Jake with embarrassment, wondering what and how to reply so that he wouldn’t hurt Biersack and so that Pitts would leave them alone. 

  
“If it’s me, then it’s not you. Not your business, go see if you’re not somewhere else” - he growled finally in an irritated tone. 

  
It worked, even though Jake said something along the lines of “If you’re so angry, you must like BDSM”, as he was walking away. It didn’t make much sense but at least he was gone. 

  
“What an idiot” - Andy sighed when they finally were alone. Unless you wanted to call it otherwise. The bus was quite cramped and they were able to hear someone’s argument with Jon from the bedroom part.   
“If you don’t get a grip, I’ll drive you to the rehab myself!” - the manager screamed, clearly infuriated. An unintelligible stutter wast the only response he got. - “This is the last time, THE LAST TIME, UNDERSTAND?” - Jon added even more infuriated. - “You can’t even stand straight. Fucking shit. Fifteen minutes and I’ll see you in the kitchen, if not, you’re screwed!”   
And that was it.    
They both heard footsteps and Jon appeared in the living area. 

  
“At least the rest of you is taking this seriously” - he said mad. - “Drink something before you go to the stage, it’s hot outside” - he added, turning towards Andy and walked out. 

  
Biersack rolled his eyes but grabbed a bottle of water and drank half of it, glad he didn’t have the lipstick on yet.    
He looks even prettier like this, Matt thought, horrified at the discovery that his manhood agreed.    
He sat nervously, putting one leg on the other in a weird position, trying to hide it but Andy didn’t seem to notice, busy teasing his hair. 

  
“Now us, D.R.U.G.S. in two hours” - the singer said and stood up to fix his pants that kept dropping, being dragged down by the four studded belts he was wearing.

***

Everything seemed to be gone during the shows. A marvelous half an hour, when Andy was too busy singing, doing what he loved, to think about all those scenarios that kept him awake at night. He regretted those moments of joy didn’t last longer but at least that was something.    
He walked onto the stage, looking at the crowd, illuminated by the light of the setting sun. In the distance, as far as the line of the trees, there were the festival grounds, tents, bigger and smaller, put up every morning over again.    
And people, all those people that considered him a hero or hated him because he looked like a faggot. Nothing in between.    
Thankfully, today no one wanted to irritate him or start a fight, like last time. All because of the fear that everyone would leave him, because others, better than him, would come eventually.    
The first chord of Sweet Blasphemy, written apparently about the dense religious people praying to the priests, not to God, believing that if they buy a mass for five bucks, they’d surely go to heaven, no doubt, sounded in the speakers, awakening Andy from the state of lethargy, caused by the heat, tiredness and a headache. The air smelled like the smoke of cigarettes, that was reminiscent of summer, outdoor shows.    
And so, the Sweet Blasphemy that Andy started to thinking about when he saw it on the setlist and Jake interrupted his thoughts with his guitar, seemed more and more to be not about deprecating the idiocy, but about what he did everyday. For living, for fun, for the sake of keeping some sanity. A sweet blasphemy towards all that he had been through. Towards trying to move forward unscathed, despite any adversities and his body rebelling against him.    
Two years ago the lyrics had impacted way more than now. Now fear was paralysing him.   
And what was he supposed to do?   
Sing, probably.    
So he kept on singing, Blasphemy to the end and then the next few songs from their newest album. Before he realized, the show was over and they walked off stage.    
Matt wrapped a towel around his shoulders and handed him a bottle of water, smiling. That was really cute of Good and Biersack hoped that there was something more behind this simple gesture, a feeling stronger than friendship. 

  
“We’re getting shitfaced with Asking Alexandria in five, come over later” - Jake said, passing them with a clear impression that those two didn’t want to party before the sunset. Also, Andy had mentioned something about D.R.U.G.S. show. 

  
It had become a tradition that for a few days Good was always backstage during Black Veil’s concerts and Biersack vice versa. For a few days meaning since BVB arrived at the festival, as Andy’s ribs broken during a fall from stage three weeks earlier, made them miss the first week of Warped Tour. 

  
“Yeah, sure, we’ll come” - the singer replied, knowing it was a lie. He hated parties that were organized only to get blackout drunk and if he was able to avoid them, he gladly did.   
Besides, he and Matt wanted to go to the town and look for something more or less healthy to eat anyways.    
Jake waved them goodbye and walked away accompanied by the rest of the band and Andy dragged Matt towards the bus to get changed and disappear before Jon could find him and ask if he was okay.    
The heat was mercilessly annoying even in the evening, so the air-conditioned bus was salvific.    
Andy took his wet, t-shirt stained with paint off and then went to the tiny bathroom at the end of the vehicle to wash the dust, makeup and hairspray off.    
On the other hand, the face makeup turned out pretty well though and he eventually decided to keep it on.   
They had already met some fans two hours ago, thankfully, when he came back from the breakfast he had with Matt. Andy couldn’t be more happy about it, he was exhausted from the heat.   
After the shower, he walked out of the bathroom wearing only a towel wrapped around his hips, partly to see how Matt would react and partly because in that fucking cell, there was no space to hang the clothes and situations like this were something they all got used to, having seen it everyday for ages.    
Satisfied, Biersack noticed that Good blushed at the sight of him, but he ignored that and just leaned over his suitcase to find some loose t-shirt with cut-off sleeves.    
Matt had a right to blush, Andy was impossibly handsome, especially after a shower, with wet hair falling down on his shoulders, forming tangled, black streaks (excluding the blonde one). He had leftovers of paint on his torso and, shit, the towel was wrapped around his waist definitely a little bit too low.    
Why was Andy doing this to him and why did the guitarist react to this like that every time?   
He really wished he knew.    
Biersack finally found some ripped jeans and a t-shirt, so he went back to the bathroom, leaving Good in the state of an enchanted bafflement.   
When he came back three minutes later, Matt’s cheeks were still cherry red, but this time the younger man was dressed.    
He was wearing a grey, quite loose, sleeveless Batman t-shirt, which only emphasized his lean silhouette and paleness, as he hadn’t yet had a chance to get properly tanned this summer. 

  
“You sure you haven’t lost anything?” - Good laughed, handing a black belt with three rows of studs towards Biersack, whose pants were about to drop. 

  
“Thanks” - Andy rolled his eyes and threaded the belt through the loops of his jeans. He had to admit that it was better this way but he didn’t really want to. - “Will we have time to get some food before your show?” - he asked, feeling a bit hungry now, that the emotions were over. 

  
Matt nodded and patted the space next to him on the sofa, then getting up to grab a hair dryer from the counter. He proceeded to take care of the tangled streaks of Biersack’s hair. It felt damn good and somehow cute. Did “just friends” do things like that?

  
“Aww, someone likes it” - Good laughed, seeing the singer’s soft smile, which the younger boy quickly got rid of and shrugged, caught red-handed. 

  
“You’re staring at me again” - Andy laughed, wincing when the guitarist dragged some streak a bit too hard. Matt apologized quickly and parodied him, saying he hadn’t stared at all.    
Biersack rolled his eyes and went quiet as soon as Good turned the hair dryer on.. His hair hated to dry this way, it was super tangled afterwards, but they didn’t have much time, they were supposed to leave soon. And Andy didn’t want to get sick, he wasn’t brave enough to walk outside with wet hair, despite the heat.    
Matt was finally done after what it seemed like a quarter. He unplugged the hair dryer from a questionably looking socket that was barely holding onto the wall and wrapped the wire around the device, placing it back on the counter afterwards.    
Andy tried to fix his hair with a brush somehow in the bathroom and when it turned out to be effortless, he came back to Matt and they went to look for something not as unhealthy to eat before D.R.U.G.S. show. 

***

“Is my kid full now?” - Matt asked, struggling with his bangs that kept falling into his eyes.    
Him, the rest of the band and Andy were sitting behind the stage, on the stairs leading towards it, waiting for the set to start. They still had a couple more minutes which they were spending trying to crack some unfunny jokes of the darkest humour in the world.    
Oh, and Andy was finishing his veggie sandwich that he found in one of the very few organic food stalls.    
He nodded as a reply and rolled his eyes.    
“I’m not a child” - he said in a butthurt tone.    
“Yes, you are” - Craig replied faking sadness. - “You’re not even twenty one, c’est la vie, kiddo” - he added and moved away from a green olive aimed at him by pissed Biersack. 

  
“At least I’m gonna get older later than you” - he snapped back and scrunched the piece of paper in which he had been holding the sandwich previously, throwing it at Craig. 

  
“Please don’t damage my singer, they’re paying me to keep him in one piece” - Destroy Rebuild Until God Shows’ manager said. Who the fuck came up with this name? - You’re going on stage in five.    
Andy was jealous of D.R.U.G.S. manager. He was so nice, so amicable. Jack (A/N: I’ve no idea what their manager’s name was so here we go, Jack suits perfectly) was able to sort everything out without starting a fight and seemed to be a ray of sunshine among the musicians dressed in black. Unlike Jon.    
Biersack understood that keeping an eye on the five of them was nearly impossible and he surely did put additional stress on the manager because of his health issues (even though nothing was really happening with him, everyone still believed they knew better), but Jon really lacked just a bit of understanding and empathy sometimes.    
He showed it only like once, three weeks ago, when Andy fell from the stage. And he even didn’t yell at him for stupidity, instead, as Andy remembered vaguely, that when they finally made it to the right hospital (they had accidentally arrived at a paediatric ward and scared all the children at first), Jon was fighting their bassist over the phone because he had “just left” when Andy fell and, according to Jake’s message that “Ashley disappeared”, he wasn’t back yet. Good for him that he remembered to take his phone, or else Jon would have flayed him if the bassist didn’t pick up.    
Andy sight-walked the band to the stage and sat on the highest step of the metal stairs to watch the show.    
He didn’t want to go into the crowd, the music was pretty aggressive and the last thing he wanted was to end up in a mosh pit or hugged by some crazy fans.    
  
_ If dying is your way out, then count me in, I’m coming, maybe a different spin. And I’m so used to being a coward, it’s all I’ve ever been, I quit before I win”. _

Biersack closed his eyes for a moment, leaning against the hot, metal handrail.   
The music here, backstage, was a bit quieter, as the sound traveled forward, towards the crowd, from the speakers.    
This song, third or fourth on the setlist, somehow perfectly fit to the vibe of a summer festival, to that smell of cigarettes and burnt rapeseed oil. Despite the lyrics being quite dismal, this song was to remind him of that memorable Warped Tour in two thousand eleven, the magic year, so vivid among all the other years that they were going to play.    
Was this song about him?   
Not really, he definitely wasn’t a coward. Not after all that he’d been through.   
People tended to tell him that he had that something inside, that something, whatever it was. This kind of strength that made him seem badass, so badass that barely anyone dared to fight him face to face.    
Where this came from, he didn’t know.    
Maybe it came as he grew older, through painful experiences, maybe not.    
What if this was just his personality?

_ If the sky is the limit then I’ll steal the air that’s in it _

_ I won’t take it back, I’d still want more. _


	2. The world was wrong this time, my voice is strong inside

The sun was slowly setting, illuminating the sandy dirt road with shades of golden yellow and coppery red. The dust was floating in the rays of the sun every time someone walked there.    
In the distance, there was a sound of different songs which, despite the stages being set far apart, mixed together in this exact place.    
It smelled like fast food and cigarettes.    
And Andy was having a mental breakdown.    
The nostalgic evening and the moment of loneliness at Matt’s band’s show made him visit the dark areas of his mind where anxiety reigned. And it was so easy to start panicking.    
Again, Andy was feeling light years apart from everyone else, especially from Good, who was walking one foot apart from him and even talking to him.    
The singer felt like he was drowning in a black hole, deeper and deeper, drifting away from his friends. 

“So am I getting the answer or not?” - Matt’s amused voice brought Biersack back to reality. 

  
“What was the question?” - he asked, trying to recall what the guitarist had asked him about, but he couldn’t. In addition, the presence of the older man in a wet t-shirt, with hair clumped into dripping streaks after he had poured a bottle of water over himself at the end of the show, was distracting the singer. Why was Matt doing these things to him? Just like that, unwittingly?

“Do you wanna go to my bus with me and wait there or are you coming back to yours” - Matt repeated for the third time, it seemed, because Andy ignored the first two.    
Though he wasn’t surprised he did. Despite early evening, it wasn’t getting even slightly cooler and the singer had mentioned something about a headache earlier that day.   
Even now, he didn’t look okay, his face reddened from the heat, hair slightly wet at the roots. And the fact that it was long and black surely didn’t make things any better. 

“I might go with you, I think. Unless you’re sick of me” - Andy replied. He didn’t want to force himself on Matt and the anxiety that he could have, rose now that he found out what was like to know a person who wouldn’t give you a second of rest. But he was trying to forget about that. 

“Of course not, why would you think that?” - Matt raised an eyebrow, stopping in shock. It was a mistake, considering the heat was even worse in stillness. - “I’d be sick of you if you were Ashley, yeah, but you’re not him, so I’m not sick of you” - he grinned. - “You’re too tall and not as muscular.”

Biersack rolled his eyes but smiled with relief at this reassurance. The only problem was that the mention of Purdy made him want to belabour the last couple of months again.    
What had started innocently, ended up being a disaster. And even now he still had doubts if walking away was a good decision. 

Unfortunately, he had to tolerate his ex as the band’s bassist anyway. At least he could avoid him as much as possible.

That’s why he wasn’t coming back to his bus. 

***

To Andy’s sorrow, Matt didn’t walk out of the bathroom wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. The younger boy was hoping he’d get an opportunity to admire the guitarist’s tattoos but he got his hopes up too high. 

“So where the kid wants to eat out?” - Good asked, brushing his wet hair. Black dye was starting to wash off it. He styled it so it was partly covering his face and grabbed an eye pencil, drawing a line around his eyes. 

“Anywhere but McDonald’s” - Andy replied, watching his friend doing his makeup. Friend? Best friend? He really wished he could call the guitarist like that. Matt was a person who Andy had needed for years, that one really good friend to whom he could confess at any time of the day. Or night. 

There was Chance, some time ago. Unfortunately, they went separate ways and the friendship disappeared.    
Until now, despite having many friends, Andy didn’t feel like any of them could like him in the same way, on the same level that he wanted to like them.    
So he kept the distance, didn’t get attached, so as not to suffer from rejection.    
And now… Now meaning when he had met Matt last year, he found what he needed.    
Andy didn’t want to be ungrateful and he really liked Jake, Jinxx and CC but… That wasn’t  _ it _ .    
Matt understood him and seemed not to treat him like a cripple, through the glass wall of “are you okay”, mothering and worrying too much. He believed in Andy’s promise that if something happened to the singer, he would let the guitarist know.    
The others, everyone Andy met, as soon as they found out he had some serious heart issues, changed their attitude towards him instantly. Excessive concern only irritated the boy, so much that he tended to joke about it. Cruel pranks, for instance telling those who treated him like a cripple or someone incapable of taking care of himself, that he had chest pains, were the most amusing. The moment the victim of such prank found out about the truth, they became mad. Too bad, because Andy had great fun seeing people’s reactions to that. 

It seemed that some just didn’t get he could do things on his own. He was an adult and didn’t need twenty-four-hours care like a child.    
It was probably those people being raised in the spirit of empathy that made everyone treat him like a seriously ill person, despite his protests, but… so what, if he couldn’t explain to anyone to let go of this attitude a bit? If he wanted to be “politically correct”, he should respect the concern, allow everyone to control his life and at the same time he shouldn’t, because  _ ableism, handicapism _ and all the similar concepts that he found out about only recently, were all about stopping the mothering and treating him like an incapable human being.    
He didn’t feel like fighting about the good and desired manners, he just stopped telling people he was ill at some point. Could he even call this an illness? He felt healthy, after all, even though sometimes he wondered how much his wellbeing, feeling fine corresponded to the concept of wellbeing that totally physically healthy people adopted. He didn’t have any comparison to that. Instead, he had a long list of questions like this one, perfect for the sleepless nights. 

So in the end he only introduced himself by the name and that was the end of discussion if he happened to be wearing (and he was trying to) a crew neck t-shirt. If all that he owned were in the washing and he only had the “Knives and Pens” - like v-necks (all hail to latex and Sandra’s makeup skills), the questions started to appear.    
There were two types of people. The first one straight forward told him they were very interested in that scar on his chest. The other type, instead, started with shy glances, certain that he didn’t notice that. Andy would purposely turn around then or cover up, watching their gaze following the scarred tissue. Just after that, they asked, not wanting to insult him, of course, they were really sorry, but what happened to him and how serious it was.   
And then they freaked out when he started laughing in response, disparagingly, like it was nothing, because it was nothing, he said, they just cut me open once, or twice, maybe three times. Who would count this? Definitely not Andy, as he was asleep during the procedure.

“Why are you smiling like that?” - Matt’s voice brought the singer back to reality. He drifted too deep into his thoughts, because the memories of situations like these, of pranking all the excessively polite people, made him feel surprisingly better.    
Despite the headache that seemed only to be starting.

“I’m smiling to you” - Biersack replied, even though he wanted to say “I’m laughing at you”. Well, it didn’t quite work out. - “You look like Frank Iero.”

He was right. Good wearing makeup and with hair partly dried on his face, was strikingly similar to My Chemical Romance’s guitarist. The only thing that made the illusion disappear was his height, far from Frank’s. 

“I’ll take it as a compliment” - Matt replied and suddenly took his Asking Alexandria tank top off. 

Andy gasped at the sight of Matt’s tattoed torso. He forgot what the man looked like. How good he looked. 

The singer focused on platonically admiring the guitarist’s inked skin for the next couple of seconds, before the older man turned around to grab a creased t-shirt from the bag lying in the upper bunk.    
He put it on, his back facing Biersack, then turned back around with a wide grin. 

“Will Three Cheers fit?” - he asked, as the t-shirt had My Chemical Romance’s Revenge era photo printed at the front. 

Andy nodded and bit his finger, hoping he didn’t blush too much, and even if he did, he prayed Matt would take it as the heat’s fault.

He wasn’t sure about his feelings for the guitarist but if he was blushing, it couldn’t have been just friendship.    
Maybe that was the crush, the love everyone was talking about? The magic state Andy craved so much. Maybe this wasn’t about the butterflies in his stomach, but about the joy from being together, hugging and then… then…

He didn’t feel like this with Ashley.

Andy often was numb to the bassist’s attempts of hugging, but Ashley didn’t seem to notice this and would only pull him closer and closer. Andy gave up in the end for the peace of mind and imagined it was someone else hugging him. If they broke up, Ashley could break the band up, destroy his dream as a revenge. They shared it half half, Black Veil, didn’t they?

“You’re cute, now come on, let’s go” - Matt ruffled Andy’s hair affectionately which made the singer blush even more. The guitarist saw this and smiled inside.   
Biersack stood up and followed Good out of the bus, waving goodbye to Aaron who was looking at them with an eyebrow raised, as they passed by him.

The temperature outside seemed to have dropped a bit and there was a slight breeze.    
The sun was almost set, the crowd was gone too, probably waiting for the main artist right now.

Andy put on his sunglasses, with a slight hope he would remain unrecognized. Hopeless wishes.    
Every teenager within five miles knew what he looked like, he wouldn’t have made it unseen if he met a fan.

It was annoying sometimes, but nevertheless, he was grateful for every single one of all those people, fans. He wouldn’t have made it this far without them. They liked something in his lyrics about never giving in, fighting against all odds. He was curious if they were really telling him the truth when they met him? That he saved their lives?   
His life got saved once, too. And he was grateful for that. If he didn’t exist, he wouldn’t be able to do what he loved. And he was grateful that he was given the freedom of choice as long as he was being responsible. He could be working a regular office job right now, unable to stand the routine, oh dear, it would probably be a corpo job, as physical work was out of question. No one would hire him, even in a music store. Someone had to carry all those delivery boxes, right? And if he wasn’t able to, he wasn’t good enough to work there. He even read once that if someone didn’t want to hire disabled people, they put “has to be able to carry five lbs” into the job offer. Or something like that.    
This was a bit inhumane and Andy was happy he was lucky to have avoided that.    
Here, he didn’t have to carry anything but his suitcases. Well, at the very beginning, everyone was concerned if he surely, but like  _ surely _ could manage on his own. The quickly stopped, though. If he had managed to throw his two forty-pound bags into the trunk of his car while moving from Cincinnati to Los Angeles and survived the few days of driving his father’s old car, what was a suitcase on wheels compared to that?

Andy, considering all the statistics he had read, was surprisingly strong.

He had never once fainted in his entire life. Maybe he felt dizzy a few times, but it definitely wasn’t his heart’s fault. He didn’t even take too many pills, what often caused surprise in others. He had never have a nose bleed, not even once, as far as he could remember.    
His physical condition definitely outweighed the possibilities of some completely healthy people. For example Jon’s, with whom Andy ended up chasing a bus once, as the driver had forgotten about them two before driving away.

Andy was the first to get to the door, when the manager was struggling some distance from him.    
Thirty miles on a bike, trips he would take with Ashley around Los Angeles back when they were together, didn’t make much impression on the singer.

Matt and Andy got to the dusty, concrete road via the back exit of the festival area. Not a single soul was around, only a couple of small trees with dark, chunky leaves and some dry bushes. 

“I love battered prawns but I’d kill for something boiled today” - the guitarist said at some point.

Biersack mumbled something incomprehensible as a way to agree that he would do the same. He was slightly sick of feeling guilty that he ate neither regularly, nor healthily, despite trying really hard to comply with these two recommendations. 

“What would you say for a steam cooked fish?” - Good asked, stopping suddenly after a few minutes of walking down the main street.

Andy did the same and followed his friend’s gaze until he saw a small restaurant, pushed in between a bank and a hair salon. 

Colorful letters written with chalk on the blackboard by the entrance informed that today’s special offer was steam-cooked cod with dill and cold tomato soup.

“Did they mean gazpacho or…?” - Biersack asked, stepping towards the entrance, as a sign to let Matt know he thought popping in here was a good idea.

The place seemed inviting, somehow, probably with the text below the food offer, saying there was a garden patio in the back and air conditioning inside.

“Possibly” - Matt followed Andy, bending his head in the quite narrow entrance.

The place resembled a bit of the big city restaurants on the side alleys, next to art galleries, used book seller’s and spacious apartments with tall ceilings and rooms painted white.

If he could, he would find something like that for himself and Six in Los Angeles. They were looking for a flat for themselves, just like friends, as it was cheaper.    
Andy had lived with Jake before, but now Pitts had a girlfriend and Biersack didn’t want to disturb them.

They were planning to find something with Good as soon as possible, so they could move in when Warped ended in August, in autumn at latest.

They passed through quite a narrow hall, where the ceiling was definitely too low, heading towards the patio promised on the blackboard.

It was just a casual backyard, enclosed with a stone wall, separated from neighbors with a metal net and chopped wood, which served as a curtain. Even though the mess on the other side could be seen through the holes between the trunks, it didn’t ruin the atmosphere.

The stone wall was covered in ivy, growing in an upward direction to the umbrellas over the tables. 

Despite being outside, the patio was pleasantly chilly, probably due to the wall. 

Matt and Andy sat by the table in the corner, in some distance from the other ones, some of which were busy.

Biersack was nervously playing with the corner of one of the menu pages, glancing over the short list of dishes again and again. Chicken tagiatelle, grilled courgette with chips, steam-cooked cod, gnocchi with tomato sauce, duck stir fry, a total mashmish of everything. He even managed to find those European dumplings that CC claimed he was able to make, but he didn’t trust the drummer enough to try them.

Now that they sat down and the emotional mess of the whole day was gone, the headache intensified. Andy was hoping to get a proper amount of sleep today, as he was really tired and honestly, the thought of pulling an (almost) all-nighter again was making him cry.

“What are you taking?” - Andy asked, resting his head on his hand, because this way the migraine was less annoying. Unfortunately, in this position, his ribs reminded him they still weren’t properly healed. He groaned quietly, hoping Matt wouldn’t notice (he did but stayed silent) and straightened in the chair. 

“What they had on the blackboard, I think, I don’t trust the rest of this food” - Good replied. He wanted to support Biersack somehow through all of this. Despite the fact that the younger boy never complained, the guitarist found out that the singer needed someone who would take some of his problems away, who would show him support in the net of limitations, only externally resembling of freedom. 

Too many times Matt had seen badly hidden jealousy in Andy’s eyes, at the sight of the fast food and alcohol bottles being brought to the bus, the cigarettes smoked and the drugs snorted. He realized that the younger man just needed an escape from his problems. A temporary fix that would work instantly, because the reality was overwhelming. Andy had the weight of his own bittersweet life and the responsibility of being a frontman of a band for the outcasts on his shoulders. 

Matt wanted to help Andy as much as he could. He didn’t have much to lose and the change of habits could only be for good.

“I’ve been wondering if I should quit drinking at parties. I’m kinda sick of waking up hungover. I think I should cut down on partying, too, I’m getting too old for that” - he said and smiled when he noticed a mixture of hope and disbelief in Biersack’s eyes.

The singer didn’t have the guts to ask anyone to drink juice instead of whisky with him at the parties. That was only his problem, after all, that he shouldn’t touch alcohol (officially, he told everyone that he just wasn’t a fan of drinking) and everyone could have fun the way they wanted to. Too bad that juice didn’t have that magical power of making you unconscious if you drank too much. And lifting up your mood, the precious property of the ability to escape your own problems.

The fact that Matt offered it himself warmed the singer’s heart. He didn’t have to do this, who wasn’t a fan of crazy tour parties where alcohol was pouring until dawn?

And also the thing that Good wanted to cut down on staying up all night. A dream come true, Biersack couldn’t count the times where he was left all alone because the rest of the band would go out drinking and came back around four, five in the morning. It hurt, the loneliness.

And that’s exactly why he couldn’t find understanding (?) in any of his bandmates.

He had hoped that he would be able to talk about this with Ash, but again, he got his hopes up too high. 

The mixture of a toxically clingy person and a rude alcoholic was one of the worst he could end up with.

“I’m pretty sure I still have some tea if you need something to drink that’s not alcohol” - Andy said in the end. In the end, meaning like three seconds after Matt’s words. - “And too much is always unhealthy, it’s good to get some sleep sometimes” - he smiled. He didn’t want to ask for more, ask Good to stay with him more often instead of going out. He didn’t dare to, the guitarist could do what he wanted. And, unlike him, nothing was holding the other man down. And Andy was so jealous of that.

“I’d say I was gonna start today but you must be tired, aren’t you?” - the guitarist asked, looking at the dark circles under Biersack’s eyes, visible even though he still had his warpaint on, partly washed off on D.R.U.G.S.’ bus.

Andy sighed, irritated and Matt became worried that he took it too far. He didn’t want to mother the younger boy, no matter what.

“I’m not tired, it’s just a headache” - Biersack replied. The guitarist’s words sounded a bit like a weak excuse to leave him alone tonight, go out, but Six wanted to believe that it was only his sick imagination playing tricks on him and Good was just caring about him and didn’t want to tire him unnecessarily.

“I’m gonna have to make sure that the headache is gone when you get up in the morning” - Matt laughed, watching Andy’s cheeks burn with cherry red. - “The others are going out with Motionless In White tonight, the bus will be empty so you’ll get some sleep” - he said softly, because the boy looked really tired from the heat and the journey of the past couple of days. His face was literally grey, despite the slight tan he got today.

“Thank you” - Andy replied with honest gratitude. Matt didn’t have to do it, but he wanted to, so he really seemed to care about the friendship with Andy. And that was lovely.

“Don’t worry, enjoy your food” - Good smiled slightly and grabbed a spoon, as they had just been given the famous cold tomato soup aka gazpacho.

***

Later that evening they went for a walk to reach the daily ten thousand steps Jon required from Andy everyday. Biersack wasn’t sure but he was slowly realizing that the manager was in touch with his parents and they kept asking the man about everything Andy himself didn’t tell them to not worry them. People couldn’t believe he knew his body best, no matter how hard he was trying to prove it. 

After a few minutes of walking from the town center they reached a street of newly built houses.   
The fences were hugged to each other, crickets were chirping.    
It was too far away to hear the music from the festival which was causing the feeling of intimacy and some kind of calm.    
They were walking down a cobblestone street, not really talking much, just enjoying each other’s company. 

Matt glanced at Andy who was looking at a modern style bungalow with a flat roof. The walls were painted white and instead of traditional blinds, the windows were covered with wooden constructions made of tiny evenly placed wooden laths.    
The backyard was still a mess, as the house had only recently been built, but nevertheless, it was really cute.    
Just like Biersack with his pretty face, blue eyes and slightly parted lips still reddened from the lipstick that wouldn’t come off.   
Good suddenly realized he wanted to kiss the boy here and now, damn the consequences and he almost did. Almost, because he couldn’t, he didn’t want to destroy their friendship, push himself into Andy’s life with his love, not now, when he had just recently mentioned he had had enough of relationships developing to fast, after the shitshow with Ashley.

If Matt kissed him now, he would be obtrusive. He didn’t have a right to do this.

“Maybe we’ll find a house like this?” - he asked instead of kissing Andy.

  
Biersack looked at him with a soft smile and shrugged.

“Yeah, it’s pretty” - he admitted. - “But you’re mowing the lawn.”

Matt laughed at these words and shook his head with disapproval. 

“We’re settling on a flat then” - he said. - “I can do shopping and cook but I’m not mowing the lawn, fuck you”.

“I can cook” - Andy shrugged when they started walking back out of the town, to BVB’s bus to get his stuff and then to D.R.U.G.S.’ vehicle to sleep.

“You can’t and you know that” - Matt laughed.   
Biersack crossed his arms, offended and didn’t say a word more.

***

“Do you own just one pj’s that’s not Batman?”

Andy, who just finished being mad at disrespecting his (non-existent) cooking skills, crossed his arms again, covering the superhero logo a bit.

“I don’t” he replied.

He was sitting on a free, unused bunk on D.R.U.G.S.’ tourbus, feeling his eyelids getting heavier and heavier from tiredness with every second. It was nice and cool inside, surprisingly quiet.

CC wasn’t fighting Jon over nonsense things, animal-like sounds of making out weren’t coming from the bunk next to his. A nice change.

“I’ll get you one” - Matt threw a bottle of water at Andy so he could swallow the pills he was holding in one hand.   
Biersack caught it and opened it with his teeth, then swallowing the colorful medicine and winced when one pill stopped in his throat for a moment. Typical. 

He hated pills.

“You’re not gonna fall down on me at night, right?” - he asked Good who was supposed to sleep in the bunk above him. He wanted to say Matt could sleep  _ with  _ him but that was probably out of question for now. And he didn’t have the guts to do it.

“I’ll try” - The guitarist laughed. - “Is this a suggestion?”

Biersack shook his head with an innocent impression on his face and covered himself up with a thin polyamide sheet serving as a blanket.

“Goodnight” - he said, closing his eyes and, to Matt’s surprise, fell asleep a few moments later.

The guitarist followed his steps and laid down in the upper bunk.   
Falling asleep, he recalled how Jon wasn’t keen on letting Andy (get some proper) sleep tonight on this bus and made the singer promise he’d show up next morning.

The manager was exaggerating with his harsh care, but Biersack wasn’t innocent either.    
Everyday it was impossible to notice that something was wrong with his health, especially when the whole band was having the time of their lives pranking people and no one could calm them down. And poor Jon had to be ashamed for them and lose his temper trying to make them behave.

But what could be done?

That was life and the child for whom revelling was forbidden, used the first opportunity they were given to disobey.

Just like Andy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and again, please let me know if you see any grammar mistakes.  
> Also, I've never been to Warped Tour so all the descriptions are based on my experiences from different festivals I went to :)


	3. Don't let the bastards get you down

The bus was swinging steadily with a typical engine hum, much quieter than this of the vehicle Black Veil had rented, which seemed to be a bit older. Well, someone wanted it fancy, it seemed.   
Honestly, Andy was a little jealous of that, D.R.U.G.S. had put out only one album and his band - two.

He stretched in the bunk, as much as the possibilities allowed and opened his eyes, then opening the green curtain a bit. The inside of the vehicle was soaked in the morning sun, it smelled like toasts.

The bus slowed down and stopped for a second a moment later, just to start going backwards with a sound of regular beeping. It seemed like they reached the next stop.

Biersack couldn’t be bothered to get up, he wished this moment in the uncomfortable bunk would last forever. He still wasn’t fully used to travelling five hundred miles a day, everyday, even though this wasn’t a large distance.

Just seven hours of drive from Kansas City to Indianapolis, meaning if they had headed out on time at two in the morning, it must have been ten right now. 

This, on the other hand, meant that he slept almost half a day. Or night. Something in between.

Not that he regretted it, he was feeling so much better and Matt was here.

The older man was doing something in the kitchen, hence the smell of toasts. The sound of dishes being moved made Andy feel like it was some kind of ASMR and he didn’t want to get up even more because of that.

A vibration of his phone in the back pocket of his jeans lying on the floor under the bunk made him come back to reality. 

Andy got up with a groan and leaned down to grab the phone, just to read a text from his manager asking if they had already arrived, as there was soundcheck planned at noon.   
He sighed and texted Jon back that he remembered, they just arrived and he’d make it, but Jon shouldn’t stress him out, it wasn’t good for his body. 

He sent the text and grabbed a fresh bandage from his backpack, then dragged himself to the kitchen.    
“Morning” he smiled at Matt, who, at the sound of Andy’s voice, turned around. 

“Slept well?” the guitarist asked, praying not to blush, because Biersack in the morning looked beautiful with messy hair and in his Batman pj’s.    
Andy nodded and smiled softly in response. 

“Can you help me?” he asked, pointing towards the bandage in his hand. Not that he couldn’t do it on his own, it’s just that his body was craving for at least a tiny bit of Matt’s touch. Asking for help was an innocent solution to the problem here.

“Take your shirt off” Good replied and grabbed the bandage. The singer took the upper part of his Batman pajamas off and started squishing it in his hands nervously.    
Matt put the metal clasp on the counter and gently started to wrap the material around Andy’s ribs, bruised on one side, hoping this wouldn’t make the younger boy suffocate or something.    
He was done after a minute and stroke Andy’s hair playfully, even though he wanted to kiss him.

“I’ve made breakfast for you” Matt said, smiling softly and grabbed a cup of tea and a plate of toasts from the counter.

“Thank you” Andy replied, surprised that he was being taken care of so much and (what he realized a moment later) that Matt knew perfectly what Andy’s favorite food was. - “Aww, it’s salmon” the singer said cheerfully, grinning. Two smoked salmon and avocado toasts were staring back at him from the plate, next to a few slices of salmon sprinkled with dill. A dream come true. 

“I couldn’t take any more of your complaints about being forced to eat the stuff you hate and you never said this could harm you, enjoy it” said Matt and grabbed his plate, then gestured towards the red sofa to make Andy follow him.    
The younger boy said on the edge of the couch, glancing over his shoulder for a second to the back, where Nick’s leg was hanging from one of the bunks. It must have been a good party yesterday if they were still asleep.

“I’ve got soundcheck at noon, I’m gonna have to go to my bus soon or else Jon will kill me” Andy said when he was done eating his golden toasts, focused on the slices of salmon on the plate now. - “Will we hang out later today?”  _ will we hang out? _ It sounded like a shitty pickup line of a stupid teenage girl. He blushed, embarrassed, which caught Matt’s attention. 

“I think we’re playing same time as you today, then after the show maybe? If we don’t make it earlier?” Good suggested, crossing his legs. - “I’ll text you. And drink your tea” he added, because Biersack barely touched the contents of his cup.    
The singer nodded and focused back on finishing the breakfast, discovering that actually, he was in a really good mood today. Probably because he had finally gotten some sleep and because Matt had made him tasty breakfast. 

Andy washed their dishes and let Matt walk him to the door, where he hugged him goodbye, pretending that it was just a friend-friend hug, then he headed towards his bus. 

He didn’t want to come back, but technically, he was at work and he was getting paid for showing up on time.

Andy sighed, looking up at the clouded sky. Storm clouds were hanging low above the field and something else in the distance. It looked like a complex of buildings, probably the city’s industrial zone. Indianapolis suburbs. 

The air was so thick that he could cut it with a knife. The moist made him want to lock up on the bus and never walk out again. 

He was hoping the storm would come before the show starts, so that the evening could be chilly. He wasn’t really keen on running on the stage when the moisture was clinging to his body more than he was clinging to Matt.

Andy took a deep breath and looked around trying to find his bus and when he finally saw it, he stopped for a moment to enjoy the last moments of freedom. Then he walked inside.   
The cool bus interior was almost salvific, more than he thought.    
“You’re surprisingly early today” - Jon appeared out of nowhere, when Andy barely made it up the stairs.    
“I love you too, how’s your day? Mine’s pretty okay, how are you feeling?” - Biersack replied, rolling his eyes.    
The manager shook his head with disapproval, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have anything to complain about, either, Andy was on time and there still was some time left to the soundcheck.    
“Wait… are you wearing pj’s?” - Jinxx’s surprised voice made Biersack stop halfway and look down at his clothes. Indeed, he was still in his grey, cotton Batman pajamas. He blushed and nodded, which made Jeremy burst out laughing. - “You guys slept together?”   
“Why?” - Andy asked, slightly irritated. It was annoying him that everyone around was trying to force him into a relationship with Matt, even though he himself wasn’t sure what his feelings for the guitarist were exactly. As if they didn’t have anything better to do. 

“Why  _ why _ ?” - said slightly hungover CC, dragging himself out of his bunk. - “You came back from his bus in pajamas and you don’t think straight only when you’re in love. Or you had a fight and he kicked you out, not giving you a chance to get changed” - the drummer shrugged.

“Did you have a fight?” - Ashley asked. He was sitting next to Jinxx, curled up, leaning over a piece of paper, so Andy hadn’t noticed him at first. The bassist was writing something furiously and in his voice, there was a spark of hope, which irritated Andy even more.   
“You wish” - the singer replied, giving a derisive look to the piece of paper Purdy was holding. - “Are you writing a poem? About how much you miss me?” - the singer added harshly, causing CC to look at him fearfully.   
Andy tore the paper away from Ashley and looked over the words quickly, trying not to laugh.    
The text was a hopeless attempt to write a song? A poem? About everything the bassist would do with Andy if he was able to. Including all the innuendos.

“Pathetic” - Biersack concluded and gave the sheet back to Purdy, then headed towards the back of the bus to get changed and to avoid any confrontation with the bassist, mainly because the older man seemed to have one of his “Andy I’m begging you, please come back to me, no one will ever please you as much as I can” days. Pathetic.    
Andy grabbed some clothes from his bag and went to the small bathroom, glancing at his reflection. He looked really well-rested and that’s how he felt. Surprisingly, he was starting to get motivated to do something too, which didn't happen very often. 

He smiled at the black-haired boy in the mirror and took his pj’s off to put on a From First To Last t-shirt and ripped jeans with two belts, one casual, black leather and the other one studded.   
The singer decided not to do any makeup. The weather definitely wasn’t good for it, it was too moisty to hope the eyeliner wouldn’t smear, sooner or later.

He fixed his hair and grabbed the crumpled pj’s, walking out of the bathroom in a mood for a fight, still ready to (quite eagerly) argue with Ashley. Somehow he felt like fighting back for all the times Purdy was making him feel like a piece of shit.    
Andy didn’t have to wait long for the first opportunity. He barely made it to the main part of the bus when Purdy asked:   
“You going out with us tonight? Or maybe not? You scared? Poor, held down baby. Only cowards don’t drink.”   
Andy took a deep breath, trying not to get pissed. Some fucking wimp as tall as a garden gnome wasn’t going to ruin his day.   
“At least being held down taught me some manners. And no, I’m not going out, I have a date with my boyfriend you’re so jealous of” - he replied with a venomous smile.   
He knew he was really bending the truth, Matt and him didn’t have any plans for the evening and they surely weren’t dating. Well, if Good doesn’t have time for Andy, he’d just pretend he’s going to meet him and then would disappear as far away from the Brides, as possible, until they go out. Walks were healthy, weren’t they?

He could see disbelief and misery on Ashley’s face. He must’ve believed Andy’s words about Matt, that Biersack had someone. That he didn’t want the bassist anymore, moved on.    
It was unbelievable. 

“Look who’s dumbstruck right now” - Andy chuckled with wild satisfaction it made him feel. He knew what he did was immoral but sometimes he just couldn’t help his awful personality.    
It was just revenge, just revenge, he promised himself to not feel guilty.    
“You won’t be as happy with him as you’d be with me. I’m not gonna regret treating you well” Purdy replied, clearly upset. - “You should be glad someone wants to date you, you fucking cripple, that someone wants to touch you.”

Now Andy felt hurt. Fine, words like this didn’t make a great impression on him, he knew they were empty, said in anger, but at the same time he didn’t want to hear that from his ex. He had opened up to him and had trusted him for a while, they had been in love.

Andy regretted the day when he confessed to Ashley how much he feared he wasn’t enough, that anyone could replace him and people deserved to be friends with someone healthy, who wasn’t a burden, like he felt and was scared that if he wasn’t it yet, it could happen someday. He didn’t know the future, the methods were too new for anyone to know long-term complications. 

That night, when he confessed his struggles to Ashley, he was having a mental breakdown, not long before the milestone when he came to hospital for a usual three-day long checkup and walked out traumatized after a planned-unplanned surgery. His mind was in a terrible state that evening because they went out to see some shitty romantic drama movie, a typical one that made every teen cry, an illness being the main plot. They wanted to watch it for fun, as a date. Well, the fun ended halfway through the movie, when they ran out of popcorn during a sad scene which only reminded Andy a long-forgotten miserable moment of his life, one of many that he hadn’t noticed before but growing up, he started to perceive them differently.

The breakdown reached its peak around midnight and that’s when he told Ashley about his struggles.

And now the bassist was using that against him.   
The fragile feelings hidden deep inside.    
Andy was to blame, he started this fight and didn’t mind hurting Ashley back then, but… In his own opinion it was something different. The singer was entitled to do it, allowed because he was the sick one, the one held down. In reality it wasn’t like that but wasn’t his misery too much to take in the first place?

“Seems like Matt wants me and he doesn’t mind it, while you’re miserably single and you need to please yourself with prostitutes” - Andy said in the end.    
Ashley wanted to snap back at him but before he could, Jon appeared and made them go to the soundcheck earlier, threatening to yell if they didn’t and that was the last thing they wanted.   
Jon, right. Jon.   
“Did you eat breakfast? How are you?” - the manager asked as Andy distanced himself a bit from the others, walking at the very end of the group heading towards the empty stage.    
Biersack rolled his eyes and put his hands into his pockets.    
“Guess” - he snapped. He hated being mothered and Jon knew that. Andy understood the manager was getting paid to keep an eye on them but there were some boundaries, right?   
They had even agreed on that long ago, before their first tour they ever went on with Jon.

_ ‘Come to my office tomorrow, we need to talk.’ _

_ The content of the message and the full stop at the end of the sentence didn’t predict any good. No wonder Andy was panicking for the past fourteen hours, since he had received the text from his new manager with whom they were going to go on tour next week. A short tour, though but nevertheless, their first one and their own one.  _ _   
_ _ What could he have done wrong? Why the man wanted to see him? Was there an issue? The promoter changed his mind and the tour wasn’t happening in the end?  _ _   
_ _ Andy took a deep breath and stopped in front of the right door, glancing to the side for a second, at the long, empty corridor with red carpet on the floor, its sides framed with gold stripes.  _ _   
_ _ And then he knocked. _ _   
_ _ No voice answered, so he waited two more seconds before hesitantly pushing the handle down. _ _   
_ _ He didn’t look like a rockstar, definitely not, wearing a black t-shirt with no print, slightly burnt at the stitches from ironing. It was a v-neck, oh dear, but back then, he didn’t mind it. He put on a green flannel over it (as the day was quite chilly for LA) and ripped jeans. Long, black hair, the endings layered heavily, was tied in a low bun but some streaks escaped the hairband and were hanging loosely around the boy’s face, creating an illusion that his hair was cut just below the jawline.  _ _   
_ _ The outfit was completed by worn-off cowboy boots, with the sole ungluing from the right shoe, despite many attempts to glue it back. Andy was also wearing a black full cap, green vizor facing backwards.  _ _   
_ _ He didn’t put any makeup on, scared that he might start crying and smear it after talking to Jon. _ _   
_ _ The singer looked at the man sitting behind the desk, who smiled at sight the sight of Biersack.  _ _   
_ _ There was a PC and a keyboard on the top of it, as well as a mess consisting of paper sheets partly covering a coffee mug with “Stanford University, Management Department, Class of 1999” written on it.  _ _   
_ _ Andy smiled softly at the words. Jon looked that age, a decade of experience, he could be at most thirty five years old.  _ _   
_ _ “Hi” the singer said, trying to break the silence present since he came in. - “You wanted to see me.” _ _   
_ _ Jon nodded. _ _   
_ _ “Sit down, please” he spoke, pointing towards a chair in front of the desk. Was it a forecast of something good? Or bad? _ _   
_ _ The boy didn’t know what to expect, he was too new to the music industry to be able to guess why he was called in today.  _ _   
_ _ So he sat down on the chair, nervously straightened, like a string, trying not to look as stressed as he was feeling. _ _   
_ _ “I went through your personal info” Jon said, grabbing a pile of paper. Andy gasped, afraid what the manager was going to tell him. That he wasn’t good enough? Most probably. That he was really sorry but going on tour would be too risky and the record deal for an album they were supposed to start working on once the run of shows was over, was now gone? _ _   
_ _ Andy tried to stop his mind creating the worst scenarios and focused his eyes on the sheet Jon had placed his hand on. At the top he noticed a familiar logo of the hospital he was treated in. All lost and gone, he thought.  _ _   
_ _ “I went through your personal info” the manager repeated. - “And we need to talk.” _ _   
_ _ Andy took a deep breath, trying not to stress out. _ _   
_ _ “What did I do?” he laughed weakly, trying to ease the tension in the room.  _ _   
_ _ “You? Absolutely nothing” Jon replied, making Andy feel a bit relieved. - “Except that you didn’t tell me about your heart disease. And you should have.” _ _   
_ _ “I forgot…?” Andy gave him an innocent smile, shrugging. He lived like the CHD never existed, he didn’t think about it all the time, no wonder it slipped his mind.  _ _   
_ _ “What do you mean: you forgot” Jon frowned his eyebrows. - “It’s not something you just forget about. You’re lucky I noticed this, cause if something happened to you…” _ _   
_ _ “Nothing’s gonna happen to me” Andy interrupted him, slightly irritated and rolled his eyes. - “It’s not something serious. I mean, it is, but… It doesn’t bother me everyday. I was raised in a way that I don’t care about it if I don’t have to, as long as I’m responsible. It’s just… I don’t think about it. I take care of myself and I know when to stop. I’ll be okay. I’m sorry I forgot to mention it, it was probably because all my friends treat me like it’s not a problem, no one cares about it and I tend to forget some people see it differently” - he added softer and smiled warmly. - “What would you like to know?” _ _   
_ _ Jon flipped through a couple of sheets in a folder he was holding, grabbed a pen and found a page that looked like a survey. _ _   
_ _ “I have to ask you about the symptoms, medicines, if you don’t need anything we should take on tour with us that we normally wouldn’t be taking” he said. _ _   
_ _ Andy nodded and crossed his legs, waiting for his manager to move on.  _ _   
_ _ No one was going to kick him out of the band, claiming he wasn’t good enough. The tour wasn’t cancelled.  _ _   
_ _ Nothing happened.  _ _   
_ _ Everything was fine. _

They reached their destination. 

The empty backstage, belonging to one of the smaller stages, partly covered with a roof, looked awkwardly sad or maybe it was just Andy still being upset after the confrontation with Ashley.   
The air was even more sticky and the singer definitely had enough, even though they hadn’t even started yet.   
He hugged a cold water bottle he had taken from the bus, as it’s chilly temperature was a blessing.    
He didn’t want to bother with soundcheck, not now, it was not specifically too hot, but too moisty.    
And his motivated mood he was in in the morning, seemed to be gone.    
Before he realized, CC had gone to the stage, where he could hear the drums being played rhythmically. And some teenage girls were screeching, probably waiting by the railings since morning.   
Andy smiled slightly and sat on one of the boxes, blindly staring at the wall, lost in his thoughts. The first quarter was always the most boring part of the soundtrack, when he was waiting for the others to plug their instruments in and make sure they sounded properly.    
Just like this time.    
Andy almost ended up asleep before they called him.   
He climbed up the stairs and walked up to the microphone, looking up on the way. The roof seemed to be made of cushions. Matt claimed those were sausages and Andy began to see the resemblance.    
He stopped at the edge of the stage and smiled at the teens who started to screech even louder, but this time protesting as the bodyguard was trying to make them go away.    
“Let them stay, they’re not a disturbance, c’mon” - Andy said what made the girls shut up for a second.    
He didn’t pay much more attention to them, focused on Jon yelling at him. Yeah, right, he was supposed to try and not break the mic stand until the show. It tended to happen sometimes, accidentally.   
He gave the man an apologetic smile and grabbed the microphone, playing with the wire.    
“One, two, one, two, three, four, five, Ashley sucks” he said with an innocent look on his face when Purdy expressed his displeasure and threatened to knock him out with the bass. - “The fuck you’re talking about, would you hit a cripple?” - it didn’t rhyme and so Andy went silent, realizing what he had said. He hoped those girls on the grass would think he was referring to his broken ribs but automatically made sure the t-shirt was covering his chest.    
“Okay, stop fucking around everyone, play something” the technician said, clearly irritated.    
Andy turned towards the band, as if he was going to ask which song they should choose, but it was obvious.    
“Knives and Pens”.

***

“Hey, I’m gonna start thinking you’re addicted to that damn cell phone. Boyfriend’s not texting?”

Andy stopped tying a bandana around his neck and lifted his gaze up from the phone.    
Ashley smiled victoriously, seeing the singer’s reaction. He could notice a shade of disappointment mixed with fear in the boy’s eyes, as if someone saw through him.    
The truth was Purdy managed to hurt Biersack with his words.    
Matt had promised to text him in the evening and he still didn’t say anything. Andy was wondering if he should send a message to the guitarist in that case, but he didn’t want to force himself on the older man. Maybe Matt was just busy? Or he forgot? And if he did, it wouldn’t hurt to remind him they were supposed to hang out.    
But what if the guitarist had promised to message but these were just empty words, just like when you meet someone in town and you promise each other to call, only because both of you are in a hurry and have no idea how to say goodbye?   
Andy sighed, ignoring Ashley and the worst scenarios about Matt being sick of him.    
Should he message him or not?   
He tried to believe Good was just busy before the show, D.R.U.G.S. were supposed to play at the same time as Black Veil. Too bad Andy couldn’t believe his own hopes, entirely sure that the guitarist was just sick of him and found better friends.    
And it hurt.   
In addition, Ashley seemed like he wasn’t done yet.    
“You were supposed to meet today, is the date cancelled? Or maybe it never existed in the first place? You don’t have the guts to ask a woman out so you pretend to be a fag. No wonder no girl wants you, you’re not a real man, you don’t even go to the gym” the bassist said.    
Andy tried to stay calm but three seconds weren’t enough to do this.    
He jumped off the chair onto Ashley, not knowing what he really wanted to do. Kick his ass? Did they even have equal chances?   
Biersack might have been taller but he was definitely slimmer and his ribs were broken.    
Before he managed to ask himself if Purdy had some advantage, he felt the bassist push him away. He didn’t give up though and jumped on the older man once again, wanting to punch him. Before he did, the bassist grabbed his wrist.    
Andy jerked madly, even though he hated to show emotions. He thought those who expressed their anger or sadness were weak and he didn’t want to become one of them. It was better to keep everything inside.    
Too bad he always exploded sooner or later. Crying or screaming.    
“Calm down, you’re gonna get a heart attack” - Ashley laughed with the meanest smile Andy had ever seen. It was too much and Biersack started to hit Purdy, punching him over and over, damn the consequences and broken bones, even when Jake told them to stop.    
This was enough, making them both even madder, not for long, though, as a few seconds later Andy felt a kick on his ribs and landed on the floor, half-conscious.    
“Are you insane?!” - Jake screamed, probably at Ash, at least that’s what Biersack hoped for. Or maybe at him?   
“He started” - Ashley replied disparagingly, smiling innocently, which made Jake take a deep breath, trying to stay calm.    
“You started picking at him” - Pitts said eventually and kneeled next to Biersack. - “Are you okay?”   
“Yeah, I’m fine, leave me alone” - Andy replied, allowing himself to sit down for a couple more seconds before attempting to stand up, which caused Jon to wonder if they should have taken a life-support machine on tour with them. He wished they did, concerned it would be useful when the band was behaving that way.    
Biersack stood up shakily, but he didn’t see any dark circles, so he came back to the chair he had been sitting on previously, to finish his makeup before the show. They were running out of time and he still didn’t have lipstick on and a scar on his cheek.    
Not to mention painting the torso and shoulders.    
He glanced at his phone and smiled, seeing a notification about a new message.    
So Matt remembered.

***

“Well, so I was looking at the apartments in Hollywood and I found a couple, wanna see?”    
The show had finished ages ago, the Brides went out, so did Jon to, as he claimed, have a pint with a woman (who would think that female managers existed, what a salvation for us, poor dudes forced to live on the road, you two are gonna be okay here?) and Matt and Andy were happy about the fact that the vehicle was empty and was supposed to be for most of the night.    
“Show me” Biersack said, sitting on the couch upside down, legs on the backrest. He had been in this position for a couple of minutes, which kinda concerned Good but the singer claimed he was comfortable like this.    
The guitarist could see the twenty-year-old’s hair sweeping the floor and the full length of his pale legs, placed a foot away from him, as they were both sitting on the same sofa.    
“You sure you’re comfortable like that?” Matt asked the younger boy who confirmed it with a smile. - “Can’t believe your doctors’ advice was to lie upside down, head facing the floor, it doesn’t make sense.”   
“Legs facing the ceiling” - Andy corrected him. - “And it makes sense, but you just don’t get it, cause life didn’t bless you with fucked up blood circulation” - he added with some sort of pride that made Matt chuckle. Biersack smiled too and reached blindly towards the laptop on the table behind him. Good caught the device before the singer dropped it and placed it safely on his own knees.    
“You’re right, I don’t get it” he admitted and gently moved his finger along tiny purple veins visible through the pale skin above the singer’s ankle, satisfiedly noticing the younger boy blushing. - “You’ve had enough of lying like that? Cause I swear I can’t stand looking at you in this position” the guitarist added, laughing.   
“Don’t look then” Biersack hissed, but sat like a decent human being, changing his position with a groan, because the fight with Ashley bruised the other side of his ribs. As if one wasn’t enough.    
He moved closer to Matt who opened a web tab showing an apartment.    
The headline said the flat was situated in Hollywood and had the surface of forty square metres.    
Andy hugged the older man’s shoulder hesitantly, before he realized what he was doing, but because the guitarist didn’t protest, Andy decided to stay in that position.    
“What do you think?” Good asked, pointing towards a picture of a spacious living room with a terrace. Outside the window, they could see the city from above, so the apartment must have been situated on the upper floors.    
“It’s pretty” Biersack smiled. - “Do they have air conditioning?” but he didn’t have to wait for an answer, as it displayed under the photos.    
There was no air conditioning.    
“That sucks” the singer sighed, opening a new tab, so Matt could show him another apartment.   
“This one is near Sunset Strip but it looks good” the guitarist said, when he found the right page in bookmarks. The flat was smaller but furnished and of a more modern style. It was situated in a skyscraper too, but lower floor. There was a city view onto the nearby buildings and on one of the terrace walls, there was Virginia creeper growing.    
They could also see a glimpse of an open canal, partly dried, down next to the street.    
“It looks a bit like the backyard of a venue we could play” Matt said.   
Andy nodded in response, agreeing.    
It reminded him of a place where he actually had made friends with Good, ironically, for good.    
That was to say, they had been friends before but that day, when they were sitting on metal railings without any purpose, actually, just because they couldn’t stop talking for a second, something tied their friendship.    
The back of the venue they played that night, looked similar to the photos.   
Andy remembered the torn off walls, stairs and the stone fence separating the place from neighbors.    
That day he told Matt about his heart issues. For some reason, this seemed to be the best choice, he couldn’t find any other opportunity and he feared if he waited longer with letting the older man know about this, he could damage their friendship. And Andy didn’t want to get accused of hiding anything.    
Matt reacted just like Andy expected.    
_ Shit, are you okay? _

He laughed in response which made Good stare at him like he was insane, but since then, the guitarist didn’t mother Andy even once, nor did he try to hold the singer down in any way, what Jinxx tended to do, for instance.    
“I like it, are we gonna go see it when Warped ends?” Biersack asked, meaning the apartment they were looking at.    
“Sure but only if you don’t try to cook” Matt laughed stroking Andy’s hair gently and then kissed his cheek.

K i s s e d h i s c h e e k.


	4. Wild hearts can't be broken

The rain was slanting down on the metal walls of the tourbus, making Matt feel like the world was crashing down on them.    
Luckily, they were still sitting inside the vehicle, on the famous red sofa, in front of a laptop, watching “V for Vendetta” for, it seemed like the fifteenth time within the past three weeks.    
Andy was curled up on the older man’s knees, his eyes glued to the screen, a soft smile on his lips.    
Matt stroked the singer’s hair gently and sighed. By now, he had learnt the plot by heart, so did Andy, but so what, if the younger boy still wasn’t sick of the movie?   
Biersack’s black hair was miserably tangled, but the guitarist assumed it was a part of his stage persona, trying not to complain.    
They didn’t talk about the kiss, even though Matt noticed the singer had blushed.    
He liked Andy. A lot. He wanted to take care of him, make him breakfast every morning and take him on dates. He had hoped they relationship would move in the right direction three weeks ago, when Biersack asked him to move in for the time of his recovery after the stage fall. The rest of his band had gone to Warped tour to meet fans. That’s the most they could do.    
The apartment Six was still sharing with Jake, was awkwardly empty and even though the singer loved his mom who had come from Cincinnati to take care of him, her continuous presence became annoying after a while. Also, she couldn’t sit by his said twenty four hours a day, she deserved some rest.    
Besides, he missed Matt anyways.    
So, Good moved in for almost three weeks and kept Andy’s company, trying not to pity him too much and instead, he laughed at his stupidity every time the singer groaned that his ribs hurt. Like come on, who was dumb enough to believe they’d jump onto a wall seven feet away from where they were standing?    
The statement  _ An ultimate proof that you’re not Batman _ was Matt’s personal favorite, as Andy hated it.    
They spent every day lying in bed, where the guitarist tried not to make Biersack laugh, because then he complained it hurt. They caught up on movie classics, watched “Pulp Fiction” ten times, Andy found out carrots wouldn’t poison him. And “V for Vendetta”. Everyday.

_ I can’t help that it’s my favorite movie _ , Biersack would give Matt an innocent smile, every time Good wanted to object.    
“Will you ever get bored of it?” the guitarist laughed, braiding one streak of the singer’s damaged hair, destroyed with hairspray and teasing. - “You’re gonna have to cut it, you look like a fucking floor mop.”   
“Fuck off. And shut up, that’s the best scene” Andy snapped, his eyes still glued to the screen.    
Matt shook his head with disapproval and sighed, hearing a thunder in the distance. A storm was coming and they were supposed to head off soon. The Brides still hadn’t come, neither did Jon. Good wouldn’t be surprised if he saw them tomorrow morning at earliest.    
In this weather.    
Luckily, Detroit, where their next stop was, wasn’t that far away, not even three hundred miles. More or less.

_ Detroit Rock City. _

The guitarist promised himself to ask Andy if he wanted to watch the movie tomorrow, as chances like this, to watch “Detroit Rock City” in Detroit, didn’t happen often.

***

The morning was chilly. A storm and different weather in a new place turned out to be salvific after the last few days’ heatwave.    
Technically, it wasn’t morning anymore.    
Almost noon.    
It was just that Matt’s biological clock was screwed up. 

“She can sing pretty well, can we go see her?” Andy asked when they heard a female voice and a sound of guitar being played. Whoever the singer was, she was truly talented, Good had to admit. Then why was he jealous?   
“Sure, let’s go” he replied, forcing a smile. - “Since when do you like country music?”

Andy raised an eyebrow and laughed. 

“It’s not country, fuck off. I just wanted to check her out, my mom would like her music, she loves Springsteen, you know that” he shrugged and headed towards a small stage.    
Matt followed him, willy-nilly, still jealous of his friend’s sexy ass being taken away from him. 

They stood to the side of the stage, backstage, after they had argued with the bodyguards who were hesitant to let them in.    
And Matt felt a painful sting in his heart seeing Andy’s fascination when he was looking at the female singer they came to see, a blonde girl with a white guitar.    
She could sing well, yeah, but she definitely wasn’t Good’s type.    
Biersack seemed to be thinking the opposite, the guitarist noticed that in his eyes focused on the girl on stage. Good even caught the younger boy singing the chorus of a catchy pop song with the artist.

_ I got a wild heart and it’s wide open _

_ wild hearts can’t be broken _

_ Can’t stop a wild heart when it’s going _

_ Wild hearts can’t be broken _

And again, Matt felt his envy stinging painfully, despite visible improvement in Andy’s mood, maybe because of the lyrics that quite suited him. A wild, stitched up little heart Matt was jealous of like he had never been before. He wanted that little heart for himself and didn’t feel like sharing with anyone else.    
And if Biersack seemed to be interested in the girl on stage, Good could conclude that the period of not looking for a significant other was over.    
No girl could steal Matt’s black haired little boy.    
He was the one trying to take care of Andy, trying to show him how much he loved him. He hoped the feeling was mutual. And now, he wasn’t sure. Because of some blonde girl with a guitar.    
He could play better than her. 

“She’s good” - Biersack spoke after a moment of silence and grinned, not paying attention to the older man, just when the girl stopped playing for a second and said that the track she’d just performed was called “Wild Heart”.    
“I could argue about that” - Matt rolled his eyes and took a glimpse at his watch, feeling he couldn’t take this misery anymore. - “Shit, I’ve got souncheck in five, are you gonna be okay on your own?” - he lied, but Andy was too busy with the girl on stage to reply. The singer nodded half-consciously, not even bothering to look at Matt, so the guitarist walked away slowly, taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He was supposed to quit, but the situation with Andy and the girl was too much to handle and he had to destress somehow, even if this wasn’t a healthy way to do it.    
For a second he wanted to ignore the plan to hang out with Andy in the evening, as they had decided in the morning, and go to some wild party instead, only to get shitfaced and come back crawling, but he couldn’t take his frustration out on Biersack.    
He couldn’t influence the boy’s feelings towards him and besides, he went a bit too far, he didn’t even know if and how much Andy liked the blonde-haired artist. Maybe it was only about the music he wanted to recommend his mom, as he said. 

Matt left him and lied to him.

Now he felt guilty but it was too late to fix this. 

The guitarist could only hope Andy wouldn’t be mad about it and they’d end up watching “Detroit Rock City” in the evening, like they had planned.

***

The crush on the singer was gone nearly as soon as it appeared.    
Also, Matt was gone too.    
After the blonde girl’s show, Andy managed to catch her backstage to ask what her name was because (which he didn’t finish as a slap on the face made him shut up) she could play really well.   
He placed a hand on the burning cheek and looked at her, surprised. 

“Do you think you can have anyone you want just because you’re a rockstar now?” the girl asked harshly, making Andy take a step back so that she wouldn’t hit him again. - “Your band sucks” - so she knew them. - “No one’s ever gonna like you” and then he could only see her bare back, when she turned around and walked away. 

Andy was standing there motionlessly for a moment, shocked, trying to process what just happened and trying to ignore a wave of anxiety, a fear of people that caught him, like everyone around was judging him.   
Why couldn’t Matt be here with him?   
Andy sighed heavily and looked down at his shoes, making his way towards the parking lot to hide away from the world, on his bus. 

He really wanted Matt to be with him, he missed the guitarist. 

So maybe he was in love?   
But was that a strong feeling though, if he crushed on some random girl?   
Maybe he would be able to control this, knowing Matt was his boyfriend?   
He sighed again and fixed his hair, hiding his face behind it, speeding up a bit.    
Matt was at soundcheck, so Andy was forced to be bored, as Black Veil were supposed to play later today and they still had some free time before their set.    
He stopped by a sign board that contained full schedule for today’s stages, times and bands, to see when he could start annoying Good with his presence again.

How surprised the singer became, seeing D.R.U.G.S.’ set planned for early evening.    
It was barely two o’clock right now.    
He felt painful stinging in his chest, definitely not coming from tiredness. 

It seemed like Matt had lied to him.

But… why?   
Andy had hoped this friendship would be different, better, more honest, yet, it turned out to be like all the other ones.   
People were sick of him and tried to get rid of him.   
What was wrong with him?   
Why did the guitarist seem to care, tried to prove he cared about Biersack, at least and then treated him like that?   
Everyone had always told Andy he had an awful personality.    
He tried to change, adapt to their complaints so he could become a better version of himself but it didn’t seem good enough. Besides, was anything in his life ever enough?

Not good enough for a newborn, causing problems to his parents since the beginning. It got even worse later.    
Not good enough to not be bullied at school.    
It started with casually dumb questions if he was messed up and because he had no idea what that meant at the age of seven, he would only smile in response and then… then…   
Then it got worse.    
Wrapped in cotton wool, not good enough to get invited to class parties. Eighteenth birthdays. To belong to the popular kids.    
Or maybe they felt sorry for him?   
Maybe it was all done because they felt sorry for him? They were friends with him because they felt sorry for him? The smiled at him because felt sorry for him? They kept him in a band because they felt sorry for him? Matt pretended to be his best friend because he felt sorry for him?   
All because they felt sorry for him.    
Why would it be any different?   
He sighed heavily and leaned his forehead against the plywood, closing his eyes to stop the unwanted tears from falling.    
He didn’t matter to anyone.   
And he still was supposed to perform and again, fight with the crowd who almost completely was flipping them off to the rhythm of their music. 

“Hey, are you ok?” - a familiar British accent, concerned voice.    
Andy rolled his eyes inside and turned towards Danny Worsnop who was standing in front of him with worry painted on his face. As if Biersack needed this man here right now.    
They were friends, apparently, but Asking Alexandria’s singer was definitely making Andy fall in with the so called ’wrong crowd’. Okay, maybe going out with them was fun, but too much alcohol and other substances was being consumed there. 

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” Andy snapped, hoping his eyes weren’t red and puffy from the tears.

Danny shrugged.

“You looked like you were about to faint and I know y-...” he started but didn’t manage to finish as Biersack cut him off. 

“You don’t know shit” Andy said harshly and went by Worsnop.    
The other man ran after him and put his hand on the singer’s shoulder. 

“Listen, I’m just worried about you. Warped is tiring, you probably didn’t get much sleep and…” he said. As if he knew the best of everything. 

“Stop it” Andy shook Danny’s hand off his shoulder and turned towards him. - “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine. If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have come here in the first place. What part of this do you not understand? Fuck off, get off me, stop playing some fucking babysitter or doctor, I don’t know, go see if someone’s not fucking looking for you, why do you all always think you know better than me and won’t accept any other version? Get a life” the black haired boy screamed and almost punched the blonde one.

An awful personality?   
And what did he expect of himself?   
He couldn’t do it any other way, he was rotten. Just like he’d always been told.    
Andy couldn’t apologize.    
He didn’t want to apologize.    
Even when Danny looked at him in silence, then gave up and walked in the opposite direction.   
Why did Andy always destroy everything?   
He definitely had screwed something up in his friendship with Matt, if he didn’t, the guitarist wouldn’t have lied to him and walked away.

Was it about the blonde girl?

Yes, Biersack had crushed on her for a moment, maybe the guitarist interpreted it in a different way? 

Maybe he had feelings towards the singer?

The realization of this made Andy feel a bit better, despite still not being able to get rid of the impression of being unwanted. 

The singer just wanted to believe it could be okay, that Good didn’t give up on him.   
And that was hard.    
He kicked a stone lying on the ground in his way and looked at the clouded sky.    
The weather perfectly reflected his mood.   
Andy took his phone out of the pocket to text Matt but he hesitated. 

What if Good really didn’t want to see him?   
Or maybe he should ignore him for a while so as not to be the only person caring about this friendship?

On the other hand, if he did that, the guitarist would probably think things between Andy and the blonde singer worked out.   
And if that happened, Biersack could lose him for good.    
Andy sighed heavily and shoved his phone back to the pocket, deciding he’d look for some food first, before he forgot and then he’d possibly text Matt.   
He brushed some hair away from his face and made his way in the right direction, hoping rain wouldn’t catch him on the way. 

***

“Andy? So good to see you” the singer almost jumped in surprise, hearing Matt behind him, who, within a second, appeared next to him in the line leading towards one of the food stalls.

“Do you have anything to say?” Biersack replied, satisfiedly seeing guilt in the guitarist’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry” Good started. - “That I lied to you. And left you. I don’t know what I was thinking. You have a right to be mad”.

Andy had forgiven Matt before he even said anything but he didn’t want to show it. 

“Were you jealous of that girl?” the singer laughed, only to tease the older man.

“Maybe” Good shrugged, blushing a little, making Andy gasp. - “Why’d you think of that?”

Now Biersack had no idea what to reply if he didn’t want to get exposed. He wasn’t sure what his feelings were, didn’t want to hurt Matt and at the same time he was ready to somehow let the guitarist know he cared about him… in  _ that  _ way. 

“Awww, someone’s dumbstruck” Good laughed, making the singer blush. - “They have spaghetti, it’ll suit the shade of your cheeks” - he added, now making Andy give him a death glare and not say anything more.    
They reached the cash desk in silence and then, still wordlessly, sat by one of the tables placed in some distance from the others, set outside the tent.

“So you’re saying you have a crush on that singer” Matt said when Andy had his mouth full of tomato sauce spaghetti, so he couldn’t respond. Excluding the eye roll. 

“I don’t have a crush on her, she’s good at singing, fine, but when I wanted to ask what her name was to recommend her to my mom, she fucking slapped me” Biersack said finally.

“But if she didn’t hit you, you’d take her on a date, wouldn’t you?” Good was teasing the younger boy, as if he was getting some weird satisfaction out of Andy’s reaction, because the singer’s face was cherry red.

“You wish” the younger boy rolled his eyes, wrapping some pasta around his fork. 

“Actually, I’d rather not” the guitarist replied, making Andy drop the fork and freeze.

“What.” he choked out, unsure how to react. Yes, he really wanted their friendship to move forward in the right direction but at the same time he didn’t and being in between friendship and friendship with benefits was perfect.   
But this way Matt could still date someone else and Andy was jealous. So how it was, did he fall for the guitarist?

“What  _ what _ ” Good replied. - “I like you, fuck your what”.

It wasn’t supposed to be like that, Matt planned to tell Biersack about his feelings during a romantic sunset, somewhere in a fucking cornfield, not over a paper box full of pasta.

And at the same time, he was happy this part was over now. 

Andy felt his heart speed up dangerously, due to the emotional storm inside, so fast that the boy started shaking.   
He clamped his fingers around the bench he was sitting on and took a deep breath to calm down.

It didn’t help.

“Are you ok?” Matt seemed to be confused. He only just now started realizing that he could destroy their friendship with his words. And that was the last thing he wanted. 

Biersack shook his head and stuck his fork into the pasta. 

“It’s fine, just… It’s complicated” he said after a moment of consideration. How was he supposed to explain the storm of doubt going on in his heart to Matt?

The guitarist seemed to be waiting patiently for a sequel to Andy’s speech so the singer took a deep breath and continued:

“I want to be with you, really. I’m just scared that if we end up in a relationship, I’ll feel like in a cage, like last time. I don’t want to do it just yet, but I want you. I mean, I don’t want to share you with anyone. This relationship… it will develop, I’m sure. I just don’t want to to move on too fast. I like you, a lot, you’re handsome, I like you too, but I’m not ready for a relationship. I can’t even imagine someone would want me. Cause I’m… Everyone has always told me I’ve got an awful personality, that I can’t behave properly, I’m selfish, I can’t shut up, I’m not enough… Fuck, I don’t even know what a successful relationship should be like. I fear I might not care enough about you, not give you as much attention as you’d give me. There are so many things you might not like. And I… I hate parties, you know that. I’m scared that if we last, I’ll be a burden to you. You deserve someone better. But yeah, I like you.”

Andy expected Matt to change his mind after the long speech he just gave, but nothing happened. 

The guitarist only nodded with what seemed to be understanding and smiled at the singer softly.

“We’ll work it out. I’m not going to rush you” he said, grabbing Biersack’s pale hand. - “And if there was something I hated about you, I wouldn’t have fallen for you. I’ll want you even when you feel sick, cause that’s what you’re worried about, right? he asked and so Six nodded. - “Andy, I don’t know who told you all the bullshit about you being hopeless, but I can assure you that out of everyone I know, you’re the best. I think relationships don’t look like in the movies and we don’t have to adapt to these standards. We’ll just… we’ll get to the next point at our own pace, okay?” Andy nodded again and Matt felt how much the boy’s cold, sweaty hands were shaking. - “I want you to be happy.”

Biersack smiled softly, as if he was relieved. That weird feeling of being taken care of, that he mattered to someone, made him feel happy, so happy he wanted to jump from joy. 

He preferred not to do it, though and instead enjoy every moment with Matt, enjoy the thought that now he wouldn’t have to suffer in loneliness, unable to receive his touch. 

Unfortunately, another doubt appeared soon enough.

A burning realization that he was standing out. Again. He knew if he admitted that, the guitarist could reject him and their fluffy relationship would be long gone. 

But he couldn't just leave it, ignore it until they got to the right things - or didn’t and… he’d chicken out.    
That’s what it’d look like. 

“There’s something else” Andy said, starting to tremble again, even when Matt placed his hands on his own hands again, attempting to calm the younger boy down. 

“What is it?” Good asked and in his blue eyes, Andy could see an honest desire to understand him, to understand all the contradictions that made Biersack who he was.

“I…” the singer started shakily. - “You’re probably going to think that I’m just not ready yet and I’ll get over it one day but… I’m not really into sex.”

He expected silence, the atmosphere becoming dense, anything.

Yet, nothing happened.

“It’s fine” Matt replied softly, not letting go of Andy’s hands.

“I mean…” Biersack looked down at the table. - “Fuck, I don’t know how to name it, just… Looking at someone never made me horny. I think I’m asexual… or gray…? I mean… Yeah, I notice when people are pretty, but… that’s it. I don’t want to sleep with them just at the sight of them. Maybe it’s because the image of sex in pop culture is so overrated, but… That’s how I feel. Sometimes, very rarely, I kinda… want it all… But not enough to put the imagination into action. I mean, I could do without it, if I had to. And I’m scared you’re not gonna want me now, cause everyone dreams only about fucking and Ash really insisted on us having sex after a while, even though we never did it in the end. I’m sorry I keep talking about my ex, I just fear it’s gonna be the same all over again, that you’ll want to get pleasure somehow and I don’t want to… share you with anyone. I’m scared you’ll need someone outside our relationship to… you know… Take care of your needs” he stopped when Matt placed a finger on his lips.

“Andy, love” the guitarist said. - “It doesn’t change anything. I still like you. You’re not a freak. Believe me. When you come into a relationship with someone, you accept them fully or you don’t at all and then you don’t form a relationship. Nothing in between. And I accept you, I still want you. Don’t worry about this so much, just tell me what you’re comfortable with, where your boundaries are, so I don’t cross them accidentally, okay?”

Biersack nodded vigorously, relieved deep inside, still unable to believe his luck. It really happened, Matt loved him.

He loved Andy, didn’t he?

The singer didn’t have time to think about it because the guitarist gently placed a finger under his chin and looked into his eyes, asking for permission. Andy nodded, barely visibly, lifting the corners of his mouth, then crashing his lips against Matt’s in a short kiss that tasted like orange soda and spaghetti.

The best kiss he’d ever experienced.


	5. We get into trouble and lose our minds

Andy never really tended to listen to Joy Division that often. He wasn’t even a big fan of them. It was just that one song he knew and listened to every now and then, late evenings or during mental breakdowns.   
Just like now.   
The singer unwittingly focused his gaze on the highway view outside the bus window. Fields and woods. Oh, how well he knew that.   
_Mansfield 58_ _  
_ _Boston 97._

Apparently they were an hour away from the next Warped Tour stop, according to the sign by the road.   
The drive felt like forever to Andy. Normally, he enjoyed travelling, used to this since he was a child, but on that day he couldn’t sit still.   
The realization of being this near to Boston made him feel restless, nervous.   
_Boston._ _  
_ It felt weird to just pass by, play less than forty miles from that city and not even pop in there.   
_Boston._ _  
_ A giant edifice he knew too well.   
Andy sighed heavily and leaned his head against the glass.   
_Boston._   
And Cleveland, earlier.   
He didn’t remember that one, having to believe all those sheets written on a typewriter that he had given to Jon. If he didn’t, the manager would start running around, screaming that Andy could surely lose them.   
_Boston._ _  
_ Mansfield.   
A different fairytale for today.   
A fairytale about jam toasts CC offered him.   
About changing the world too, to some extent.   
About a black sheep from Cincinnati, so different from the rest of his family, so weird no one could compare. No one except his conservative cousin, three or four years older than Andy. She already had children, after, of course, a church wedding and she absolutely forbade Biersack to talk to her kids so as to protect them from the malefic impact of that heretic in women’s jeans.   
_Mansfield._ _  
_ Not Boston.   
Biersack sighed heavily and glanced at his phone, hoping to see a text from Matt.   
Unfortunately the guitarist didn’t send any messages him since the evening before, the last time they had seen each other and Andy was starting to feel rejected. He tried to fight it but to no success. Or maybe he just got used to the dark thoughts. 

“What’s up?” - Jinxx’s voice brought the singer back to reality.   
He gave the guitarist a questioning look, certain that he had a reason to come up to him. He must have had. Behind this innocent question, there surely was an attempt to… take care of him? No, that wasn’t the right term. Or maybe it was what it was supposed to be, just showing concern, that’s it. Too bad Andy considered it an attempt to try and treat him like a child that needed control twenty four hours a day.   
And he wasn’t even slightly wrong. 

“Not much” the singer replied, seeing as soon as he spoke, Jinxx handed him a pack of medicine. 

“There’s not much for lunch today and it’s already time for it, just so you don’t forget” the violinist said. 

Andy accepted the box and took a deep breath, trying not to be rude. The older man was just taking care of him. The concept of any chronic illness always made people ask “How are they coping?” instead anything along the lines of “I wonder if they are going to release new music soon?”. 

Biersack could only wonder where this preconception came from. Was it innate or taught in the society that defined an illness as a “lack of health”?

Well, if that’s what the word meant, maybe there was no point in treating a runny nose when you were suffering from, for instance, diabetes if you were never, according to the definition, going to get fully healthy?

He could argue that the term “illness” should have a broader explanation that would include “full health” as the best state all of those people suffering from chronic illness, oh the irony, could achieve.

But it sounded dry, like a textbook definition.   
So Andy pretended to be healthy as long as he could.   
Too bad Jinxx and others like him reminded him what the truth was, from time to time.   
It had been going on for ages, since he could remember.   
Back in middle school, one of his “best friends” of that time used to worry too much about the singer. Mothering him would suit perfectly in his CV, too bad they stopped talking before Andy managed to suggest that.   
Josh, as the mysterious boy was named, loved to suggest that Biersack could possibly not manage to do something. Like a trip to the mountains. Or playing tag.   
The singer still remembered the day when it all became too much.

_They were standing near the crossing next to their school of that time. It was mercilessly hot, no wonder, June was coming to an end, as well as the school year._ _  
_ _These were the last days before the holidays, no classes anymore, when you only came to school to collect all your belongings left there over the last ten months._ _  
_ _So Andy was holding a plastic bag full of crayons, half-empty drawing pads, stuff like that. There was even a pair of trainers inside (pointless, the teachers never had to change their shoes so the floor was still a mess in winter), but only one pair, as he didn’t have to attend P.E._ _  
_ _The bag was getting heavier and heavier, and the only thing he dreamt of was going home._ _  
_ _He was forced to wait for a bus to West Tower with Josh, though, the one they both would always take._ _  
_ _Ironically, they lived close to each other._ _  
_ _So he stood on the uneven, concrete pavement, listening to Josh talking about his summer plans for the next couple of weeks, which didn’t seem even slightly interesting._

 _“Well, at least my grandma has a TV” Joshua said in the end and fixed the backpack on his shoulder. - “And what about your plans?” - he asked, looking at the fifteen-year-old, whose hair, dyed black, was way too long for the school rules, but so what if they almost graduated. The makeup wasn’t something a male should wear either, same with the lip ring, a shoe lace on his neck and dark clothes, skinny jeans ripped on one knee. He probably got them in women’s section, as Josh didn’t recall seeing anything like that in the stores. ‘How come he still hasn’t fainted from the heat?’ - Joshua thought, giving Andy a concerned look. The younger boy, to his surprise, didn’t look bad. Maybe except slight blush from the heat. Or maybe Andy fell in love, he obviously dressed gay, maybe Andy fell in love with h i m._ _  
_ _“I’ll enjoy a week of boredom and then I’m going to that summer camp you went to last year” Biersack replied, placing the bag in his other hand for a change. How hot could it be? Ninety degrees?_ _  
_ _“But…” Josh started hesitantly. And so it begins, Andy thought and sighed theatrically._

_“What ‘but’?” he asked, maybe a bit too harshly, but on the other hand, maybe not? Who the fuck Josh was to put limits on him? Because that surely was the older boy’s goal._

_“Can you make it? I mean… It can be a bit tiring, intensive, last year…” Joshua replied. And again, the same pattern, fidgety, concerned look full of disapproval, how could Andy even think of doing something as crazy as going to a summer camp? Poor Josh must surely have had a heart attack when he found out where Biersack ended up after all those years. - ”Last year we did a lot of wandering in the mountains and you know how it ended a few years ago.”_ _  
_ _A few years ago, right._ _  
_ _A school trip he went on with a twisted ankle, not wanting to miss it. The leg didn’t even bother him that much, it was almost healed, the problem was the amount of daily activities. They barely arrived when they were taken to the mountains for the whole afternoon. Steep mountains, especially for ten- eleven-year-olds._ _  
_ _The memory of spruces growing on hillsides and the mountain top illuminated with sunset still made him feel sick._ _  
_ _After this exhausting walk, he spent half of the night playing spin-the-bottle, kind of forced to do it by his peers._ _  
_ _It was still before the bullying started for good, but long after most of the class showed him they didn’t really like him. Just because._ _  
_ _Besides, when he thought about the very early days of school, he noticed it had always been like that._ _  
_ _Without any reason._ _  
_ _Sometimes he wondered if maybe he destroyed those few years of school education to all those people, especially in primary school, just because his parents sent him to that one. Maybe he was somehow limiting the class, his peers? Traumatized someone?_ _  
_ _On the other hand, it was ridiculous. Life wasn’t easy, it didn’t have trigger warnings._ _  
_ _On the second day of the trip, they went for a walk under the winter sun shining in full glory. Amy packed him his warmest jacket, too warm for the weather. How many times after that trip he would wear clothes too thin for the cold, happy that she didn’t see it? Arthritis was worth the price if anyone could admire the outfit under his unzipped coat._ _  
_ _The walk turned out to be shorter than he thought but it still probably added to the fact that on the last day of the trip Andy woke up with a fever and something resembling of a cold._ _  
_ _It passed quickly and Amy claimed he was just exhausted. Nevertheless, he still considered the trip to Mad River a bad memory with fever hallucinations being the grand finale._ _  
_ _And now Josh reminded him of that._

 _“But it was long ago and I know my limits. Get a fucking life, I’m not gonna fucking die in front of them” Andy rolled his eyes irritatedly and placed the bag in his other hand again, when it started becoming heavy. - “Unless…” - he added after a moment and put a hand on his chest, satisfiedly seeing the terror in Josh’s eyes, as the older boy eyed him up and down over and over, trying to process what just happened._ _  
_ _Biersack dropped the bag on the pavement and pretended to freeze. He could have fallen down to his knees, he would make it look real, obviously, he just passed the exams to get accepted to a school of performing arts, but he decided not to do it just yet. He wasn’t a big fan of bruised knees, especially that he tended to bruise quite easily._ _  
_ _He held his breath for a second, as if gasping and tried as hard as he could not to laugh at Josh’s frightened expression. It was some kind of revenge for mothering Andy all that time._ _  
_ _Joshua seemed really stressed and he even put a phone out of his pocket, ready to call an ambulance, but then Andy realized he couldn’t keep the laughter inside anymore and bursted it out, unable to stop at the sight of Josh’s confused face._ _  
_ _And that’s how they stopped talking._

He wouldn’t do that to Jinxx.   
That’s why he politely swallowed the pills and came back to staring at the signs they passed on the highway. The sings to Mansfield, not Boston.   
_Mansfield._ _  
_ _  
_ ***

Matt got an impression that Andy wasn’t himself.   
For a moment he thought it was because of the weather but the second he realized which state and city they were in, he understood.   
Boston was situated so close, nearly at his fingertips, not even an hour away.   
No wonder Biersack seemed apathetic and oddly nervous.   
Good would probably feel the same.   
He suspected Andy was experiencing some sort of post traumatic stress, especially after the last time, he even tried to convince the singer to sign up for another therapy, maybe successful this time, but the younger boy said he couldn’t dig down into his memories again.   
He also confessed he felt… ungrateful? in this situation, because _it_ , back then, there, was needed, necessary and no one did him any harm.   
But was there anything wrong with the level of anxiety going off the scale, leaving bad memories as a result?   
Matt thought Andy’s anxiety was caused by the overall situation, especially the fact that his relatives and bandmates couldn’t help him overcome the fear in any way. The fear that had been eating the younger boy half a year before the surgery.   
If Good was being told only things like: “It’s nothing” and “shit, I don’t know what to tell you but it sounds serious” for a couple of months filled with constant stress, he surely would be feeling worse and worse.   
Biersack mentioned he hadn’t heard a stupid “It’s going to be okay” even once during that time.   
Well, maybe the others were worried about the situation too, but even if, it was the Andy show and the singer was the only one to face any consequences directly.   
Matt regretted he wasn’t there for the boy back then. Fine, they had known each other since the spring of last year, but Andy didn’t seem to have trusted the guitarist enough to let him know anything was going on.   
He told Matt afterwards.   
The guitarist had never booked plane tickets so fast. In the crazy run from the airport to the hospital, he managed to get some chocolate and then, upon arrival, bollcock Andy for not mentioning anything about the surgery.   
At least Matt wasn’t the only person who didn’t know a thing about it. Actually, even the band had no clue about the exact day of the surgery. No one except Andy’s parents knew.   
Amy deserved some rest too, so they went for a walk.   
They even had photos from that day, a bunch of selfies taken in a photo booth someone decided to place on a hospital corridor (why though? The guitarist still didn’t have any clue.)   
Seeing the awkward poses they stroke, on the polaroid, Matt was almost certain that the anesthesia still hadn’t completely worn off Andy, even if it was impossible.   
_“You should name your band War Painted Wheels now” the guitarist said a moment later, when they went outside with a bag of chocolate cream rolls._ _  
_ _“Fuck you” Andy rolled his eyes, holding a cream roll between his fingers like a cigarette, as he played with it. He had to admit the hospital wheelchair was quite comfy. The material it was made of, was also black in color, which made it have two advantages, as it suited Andy’s sweatpants. Matt insisted on taking the wheelchair even though Biersack felt fine, completely fine, except that he started feeling dizzy after walking a few steps from the bed to the door._ _  
_ _That wasn’t something to freak out over, though._ _  
_ _“But it’s gonna fit perfectly, trust me” the guitarist smiled innocently, taking a low quality phone camera photo of his little cutie._

And even though Andy pretended nothing bothered him, Matt could see he wasn’t himself at the soundcheck and even later, while consuming a veggie sandwich he barely touched, as well as during the show. It was a rare occurence to see Biersack ignore the haters throwing insults at him, saying that “he looked like a fag” and “he definitely fucked his guy friends”.  
Well, actually, he didn’t, but admitting that him and Matt were-weren’t together could have tragic results for both of them, so they hoped no one would find out, at least for now.   
Andy already got called gay slurs, Matt got used to it, but at least he looked masculine at first sight.   
Biersack, on the other hand, got asked “What can I get you, lovely girl?” just earlier today.   
The magazines talking shit about what he would(n’t) do with his boyfriend and the fangirls’ wet fantasies surely were the last thing he wanted. The last thing they both wanted.   
Matt promised himself to compensate Andy’s bad mood somehow tomorrow, in Scranton, far away from the good and bad memories.   
He hugged the slip of a boy a little tighter and, falling asleep, smiled at the memory of Biersack’s excessive distress three hours earlier, when he almost started crying at the discovery of “his pretty butterfly-shaped scar” (a souvenir) being almost gone.   
Andy was absolutely insane sometimes. 

***

_Check out the interview I did, it’s out this afternoon,_ he said.   
_You’ll like it, trust me,_ he said.   
So Andy hid in his bunk, earphones in, opening the link Matthew sent him.   
_Favorite things with Matt Good._ _  
_ Biersack smiled at his phone, seeing the guitarist on the screen. The older man was still wearing a BVB necklace he had for ages. Cute.   
It really seemed Matt was Black Veil Brides’ biggest fangirl, though, always wearing their merch or jewellery.   
The singer even gave him shorts saying “Andy was here” at the front and the band’s logo on the back, once.   
Andy focused on watching, smiling wider and wider with every second, giggling like a teenage girl in love. But wasn’t he in love, though? He thought so, stuck in this weird state between confessing one’s feelings and a relationship.   
_Favorite theme song?_

_Friends._

Andy hated _Friends_ , Matt complained every time Biersack mentioned Batman. They completed each other.   
_Favorite accent._ _  
_ _English._

Sure, it was cool. Really cool. Andy loved it somehow, the soft way of pronunciation he wished he had the ability to do.   
_… Cause my friend, Danny Worsnop of Asking Alexandria, he’s one of my best friends…_

Biersack didn’t listen to him any further.   
At first he was sure Matt said “my best friend”.   
It hurt somehow, especially that Andy didn’t really like Asking Alexandria.   
No, that was an understatement. He couldn’t stand them.   
One could even say that there was some kind of rivalry between Biersack’s and Bruce’s bands, no one really knew, why.   
Was it all about being the first in the charts?   
About recognition? Approval?   
Alexandria was winning in this one, people absolutely hated BVB.   
AA were just an emo band, Black Veil - 80s hair metal style rip-off, women’s section leggins, teased hair and makeup. There weren’t many like them nowadays.   
They didn’t really fit into the emo style, not anymore. Andy grew his hair out, there were no love stories in their music videos. They didn’t belong into the metal genre either, dressed up in leggins, wearing more makeup than the popular girls in school. The fans of classical heavy sound had been laughing at them for ages.   
Even at shows various items ended up on stage.   
Biersack hated to lose.   
He had enough of failures, especially with the fact that he considered himself the biggest one in existence.   
He felt like this every time any member of AA mentioned what kind of award they recently received or how many views their newest video had, how many tickets they sold.   
And even though Black Veil had legions of fans on the other side of the ocean, they even toured the UK earlier that year, Andy still felt like it wasn’t enough, like… for some reason they still weren’t as recognizable as Asking Alexandria.   
For instance, last week Cameron mentioned something about a remix album and new record ideas.   
It was unbelievable how much things seemed in order for Black Veil’s rivals. They had everything under control, even though said remix album still kept receiving new release dates.   
Black Veil had just released Set The World On Fire and Andy was really proud of this record, even if it didn’t fully work out the way he wanted it to.   
It turned out to be a huge success and - in comparison to We Stitch These Wounds - it sounded way better. Besides, they put a lot of work into the music videos.   
Andy treated STWOF like his baby, something no one could take away from him - and still, the fact that Asking Alexandria outran them in terms of a new record made him feel like someone was ripping that little thing away from him.   
He told Matt about that once or twice.   
And now Good called Worsnop “one of his best friends”.   
Andy forced himself to watch the video until the end, hoping the guitarist had mentioned him somewhere too. No success.   
He could easily make a reference to Andy when asked about his favorite pickup line.   
_Hey, have you seen how hot my mom is?_

Biersack blinked a few times to make the unwanted tears go away, but they rolled down his cheeks anyway.   
_Hey, do you wanna make out?_

It felt like Matt put a knife straight into Andy’s heart.   
Good certainly knew well that Biersack was asexual. And still, he… turned out to be just like everyone else? He definitely needed sex in the love - not yet a relationship with Andy?   
The singer couldn’t make himself do that, he didn’t feel… the need to make love with someone, not like this.   
He couldn’t understand how people were able to just… look and someone and… feel horny? He didn’t know. He couldn’t imagine it.   
After all Matt promised him, promised… that he didn’t mind it, that there was nothing wrong with Andy.   
Well, it seemed like he had lied.   
Who would want an asexual cripple as a boyfriend when you could have any woman in the world?   
Andy felt like he had destroyed this friendship, even though nothing happened.   
It was probably just because he ended a few friendships quite tumultuously, always blaming himself for that.   
With Ashley… the relationship with Ashley fell apart so harshly because it lasted too long. Andy didn’t leave when he had an opportunity to do so.   
So they kept struggling, partly because every attempt to talk resulted in a fight, the way Andy was trying to forcefully break up with the bassist, and partly because the singer simply couldn’t talk. He avoided eye to eye conversations as much as he could, simply because he didn’t want to end up losing after a discussion.   
For the same reason, he wasn’t going to talk to Matt about the interview.   
He just found the things in it that didn’t really exist. Besides, what would it look like? Pathetic. 

_Hey, could you remember that I’m your best friend too?_

It sounded stupid. Desperate.   
Andy didn’t want to act like that.   
He didn’t want to show emotions.   
The singer decided to keep all the animosity inside. There was no point in expressing it, Matt wouldn’t care anyways. He’d pretend nothing happened. He wouldn’t understand.   
Too bad that paranoid conclusions making Andy think Matt hated him were just as painful as if the guitarist just straight up told him to fuck off.   
Was it even normal?   
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to let you know, I'm not fully familiar with the US schooling system so I automatically applied the description of the schooling system in my country, which (back when I was in mid-high school) used to be: 6 years of primary school (age 7-13), 3 years of middle school (13-16) and 3 years of high school (16-19), that's why here Andy's graduating from middle school at the age of 16 (Google told me middle school in the USA is between the age of 11-13) :)


	6. Truth or dare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: if you’re triggered by the mentions of vomiting, you might want to skip this chapter :) I’ve put a summary of it in the end notes :)

_ I kissed a boy and I liked it _ \- holding hands. Hot summer evening. A date, or so it seemed. An uneven pavement you could easily trip and fall on, if you weren’t paying attention to the broken, concrete slabs. Leaves, still green, that had already fallen down, probably because of a storm that hit the city the previous day. It was sudden, passed quickly, just like Andy’s animosity towards Matt, because of the interview. The younger boy was trying to make himself believe he was still mad at the guitarist but with no success. He couldn’t find the anger within, no matter how hard he tried. 

_ Us boys, we are so magical, soft skin, red lips, so kissable*  _ \- they stopped in the shade of a maple tree. Matt wrapped his arm around Andy’s waist, kissing him gently.    
Good tasted like cigarettes and bubblemint, a mixture making Biersack kiss him back even more passionately, a result of sudden feeling of lust.    
And so they were standing like that, in the middle of the road, on the broken pavement, until some old, horrified woman showed up, calling them deviancy. Or worse.    
Katy Perry was still singing in the background, singing about kissing a girl, but Andy preferred the version playing in his head. The version about kissing a boy, he meant. 

It was a song Matt could actually sing for him. Six loved Good’s voice, he could listen to him for hours, endlessly. Nothing calmed him down as effectively as the guitarist’s singing. Actually, Biersack thought Matt was a better fit for the singer of From First To Last than Sonny (contrary to the First To Last members back when they had started the group). Andy’s favorite song was “Worlds Away” and even though FFTL were on hiatus, he was still proud of his best friend’s band, because they never gave up, even when the label dropped them.    
The “deviancy” kissed again, holding hands, right in front of the old woman, horrifying her even more before making their way towards an amusement park. That’s where their date was supposed to be, a date to which Andy didn’t feel like going at first. Too bad, at the same time he wanted to go. This foredoomed his decision.    
As a result, they ended up in the amusement park, mainly to get some candy floss, just like all the teenage couples in movies. A moment of relaxation between the everyday festival shows. Warped was slowly coming to an end, making the past month more and more of a burden every day. Horrible fatigue was just one of the many results of such way of life.    
Andy was trying not to think about the irregular heartbeat, the stinging pain in his right side, that going to sleep at four in the morning definitely wasn’t doing him any good. And yet, pulling an all nighter was some kind of a dare, a dare he would give himself every evening, a dare to show himself (and others, in his own opinion) that he could keep up with them, the others. Moments like those he didn’t feel like he was standing out. If he was able to make it so many times, he could continue to do so over and over, right? 

He had a choice, truth or dare. And he definitely preferred the second option. The ugly reality wasn’t something he was interested in, he didn’t want to face it, to live with it. He didn’t feel (yet) that he could make peace with the situation he was in. It used to be easier, back then. Now (and still) it meant giving up, if he agreed to live with it. He wasn’t able to do it, didn’t want to. So he dared himself to do many things, bigger and smaller, as stupid as pulling an all-nighter and as serious as getting to the top with the band.    
The dares were addictive. The more there were, the more he wanted, the euphoria, an unusual state of mind those put him into. Sleeping for only a few hours a night, too few hours a night, despite the awareness it was harmful to his body, definitely wasn’t doing him any good. He promised himself to make up for the lost sleep once Warped was over. When it came to sleeping long enough, the past week wasn’t the best example. Nightly parties, a mental breakdown after watching the interview with Matt and anxiety attacks were the main cause of Biersack’s insomnia.    
But now he didn’t have time to think about it, as Matt was dragging him towards a rollercoaster. 

“Bet they won’t let me ride?” Andy laughed, stopping suddenly by the board of rules. And he was right, he wasn’t allowed to ride on this one, as stated in rule number five. - “I’ll get some candy floss, you go have fun” - he said to Matt, because he had seen the man looked like he wanted to have a ride. 

“It won’t be the same without you” the guitarist replied in a firm tone, not wanting to leave Six alone. 

“But I have to take care of you. Come on, get on, I wanna laugh at your stupid ass screaming” Andy smiled and kissed Matt’s cheek. - “Now come on, you’re blocking the way” - he added, pushing Good towards the rollercoaster. 

“You’re cruel” the older man rolled his eyes but made his way towards the metal steps. - “Get me some candy floss!” - he yelled before standing in the line.

Andy shook his head with disapproval and headed towards the nearest candy floss stall, then found some empty space on the bare ground, where he sat, holding two sticks with the melted, puffy sugar on each. 

When he saw Matt in the trolley, he placed both sticks in the same hand, so he could consume the candy floss with his other hand. 

He waved at the guitarist and took a grasp of the sugar cloud, glancing at the rollercoaster speeding up, heading upwards on the wavy track, only to ride fast down, accompanied by the screams of its passengers. A dozen times or so. 

When Matt came back, he looked like he was going to throw up into the nearest bushes. 

“I hate you” he said at the sight of Andy’s amused face. 

“You’re just not assertive enough” Biersack shrugged and licked the sugar leftovers from his stick. He was about to hand Matt his candy floss when he saw the man leaning over a trash can a foot away, like he was going to puke.    
Oh well.

***

Andy knew the sleep deprivation would take its toll sooner or later.    
The Californian heat of that day was merciless, making the bus air conditioning barely keep the inside of the vehicle cool. 

Biersack woke up with a headache, a headache he hadn’t experienced for ages. As soon as he opened his eyes, he closed them back. The sunlight felt like burning and a wave of nausea suddenly hit him. 

He took a deep breath, trying not to throw up, so as not to make his stomach upset, in addition to the headache. 

The last thing he needed was dehydration on a hot day. He’d probably end up in a hospital, unable to make any liquids stay down. 

He buried his face in the pillow, because this way the headache was less painful. 

Too bad in this position his ribs started to ache. They should have healed by now, almost two months passed already, but they still were sensitive to the change of position and lying on the bruised side. 

Andy took a deep breath, forcing himself to open his eyes again, get up and grab a bottle of water, some painkillers and food, but he barely managed to sit up a bit before he started feeling even worse.

Fucking fatigue. 

“Jake?” he called towards the main area of the bus, hoping Pitts to hear him somehow. They lived together and the guitarist was used to situations like this, he never complained about Andy’s poor state of being. 

Why would he? Everyone, Jake thought, had a right to feel unwell sometimes. Biersack didn’t do any harm to anyone with his migraine, even though - what Pitts had noticed - Andy seemed to blame himself for every headache. 

Moreover, Jake felt like the younger boy wanted to disappear on days like those, especially when he ended up throwing up, as if someone was going to yell at him for being ill. 

Six had good reasons to fear a fight because of a migraine. It had always ended like that - when he was a child. Mainly because he refused to try and drink some more water or tea, as he used to throw up anyways. He wasn’t guilty of the headache, was he?

He really doubted yelling at him was a sign of concern. Maybe it was - he was able to accept it after some years - but as a five- six-year-old suffering from a migraine, he understood it just as people’s reaction to something that was his fault. He did something wrong - had a migraine. He should have made his body make it go away somehow then. And because it didn’t go away, Chris kept on complaining. 

Biersack didn’t claim he wasn’t loved, not at all. The support his parents gave him over the years was irrepressible. Still, the memory of burying his face in the pillows of their old grey sofa, because this way, the sun didn’t burn his eyes, making him feel worse; and the screams trying to convince him to drink some more of this sweet tea (which always made him nauseous) or even water (when his upset stomach refused to keep anything down), still hurt as much. 

Every time, it ended the same way. In a hospital. He threw up, every time he forced himself to eat or drink something. A paediatric ward in the middle of the night. Later, after maybe what it seemed like three hours of sleep, he would wake up well-rested, unable to recall the feeling of a headache at all. 

Amy’s fidgety eyes, a lamp on the wall. 

Pieces of carrots running down his nose if he didn’t lean down low enough.

And being guilty every time he had a migraine, rooted deeply inside him, that came back every time he wasn’t feeling well. Even if it was just a stomach flu. 

As the time passed, he stopped letting his parents know if he had another headache. Listening to their complaints that he surely went to bed too late, was tiring. The severity of the symptoms also decreased with age. 

Now, as an adult, he knew how to approach a migraine, what to do to keep it under control, not throw up - because as long as he didn’t, the shitshow didn’t start, as Chris used to say.

It only took getting some sleep and having a glass of water on hand, eating something, taking some paracetamol, to cure a headache.

It wasn’t until recently either, when he found out that becoming dehydrated quickly wasn’t something that happened to him only. And that the headaches were pretty common. If he had known it earlier, maybe he wouldn’t panic right now in fear of people yelling at him again, just because he had a migraine.   
But he didn’t know. 

“You wanted something?” Jake moved the curtain of Andy’s bunk away, letting some light in, making Biersack wince and cover his face with one hand. 

“I don’t feel well” Six replied, trying not to throw up from producing that one sentence. He hoped Pitts would realize what Andy meant by saying he wasn’t well, because another word or two could really end up on the floor.

“Chill, I’ll get you some water” Jake said and moved the curtain back in place, heading towards the kitchen area of the bus.

No complaining, no screaming at Andy. What a nice change.

Biersack buried his face in the pillow, enjoying the temporary improvement in his state of being. He really hoped Pitts wouldn’t be back that soon, maybe Andy would be able to fall asleep then and wake up without a migraine… But that was a lie. And Biersack knew it well. 

Jake came back after a while with some rice crackers (fuck, they smelled like piss), a bottle of water and an ibuprofen pill. 

Andy accepted the poor breakfast and semi-lying leaned against a pillow, taking a plastic bag from the guitarist. 

There were three unread texts from Matt on Biersack’s phone, but the boy didn’t have the energy to reply right now. Good didn’t sleep on Black Veil’s bus last night and Andy was actually pretty glad he didn’t.    
The last thing he needed was the guitarist worrying about him and seeing him like that.

The singer forced himself to eat one and a half of the rice crackers Jake brought and slowly drank a few sips of water, trying not to throw up. He succeeded, so he swallowed the painkillers, sending the sweety taste away with another sip of water.

It seemed like the breakfast improved his state of being a bit, but then the bus, motionless until now, moved suddenly, making Andy’s stomach jump. 

He barely managed to catch the plastic bag and lean over it. 

He felt Jake pulling his hair back and tying it in a low ponytail, but he barely registered it, focused on vomiting. 

Vomiting in the car.

Yelling again. This time asking him to not throw up on the seats. 

He was fourteen and coming back home from his grandma’s, on the highway bypassing Cincinnati. He already got yelled at for being indecisive in terms of the choice of the road (more or less bumpy) and now he was leaning over a grocery store plastic bag, just in case, because he was feeling nauseous but he hadn’t threw up yet.

He didn’t remember how that night ended, but it seemed he made it to the bathroom at home. 

And now he was throwing up in a car again. Throwing up in a bus.

But no one was yelling at him. 

“Everything okay?” Jake asked when Andy was done punking. He handed the pale boy some tissues and a glass of water Jon had brought so Andy could wash his mouth. The manager came, alarmed by the sound of vomiting and gave Biersack a concerned look.

“A bit better, I’m sorry” Andy replied, not daring to look at any of the two men, and lied down on the side.    
The temporary shock caused by throwing up made the headache seem gone but he knew it’d be back in less than fifteen minutes. 

“Why do you apologize?” Pitts asked surprised, but Six didn’t manage to reply, as Jon almost cut Jake off:

“If you’re unwell, we can cancel the show tonight” he spoke. - “We’re almost in LA, you can go home, get some sleep and come back if you want.”

Andy wanted to, a lot, but that was too much effort. He surely would get stuck in a traffic jam and he didn’t want to risk puking all over the taxi backseat.

“No, it’s fine” he replied, his voice tired. - “I’ll be okay by the evening, I can stay here, I don’t mind.”

He almost added “Just leave me alone”, but he decided not to, instead grabbing his phone to check the time and notifications, as the headache was temporarily gone. 

Three messages from Matt.

_ Goodnight <3 _

_ Morning, sunshine <3 _

_ Are we still hanging out this afternoon? ;3 _

Andy sighed quietly, wondering what to reply.

As a reply to the second message he sent something along “morning beautiful”, but he had no idea what to do about their plans for today.

He agreed yesterday and now, forced to cancel the meeting, he somehow felt guilty. 

He didn’t want to worry Matt with his state of being either, but at the same time he knew in the long run, he couldn’t hide it like that.

On previous tours they went together on, he managed to keep the migraine under control so it didn’t put him to bed. Fine, Andy would mention he wasn’t well sometimes but he never really got into the details. As an effect, Matt had no idea what those days looked like in reality. Now Biersack feared the guitarist would be mad at him or at least was going to start complaining. 

_ I’m sorry, I don’t feel well. I’m sorry, really, we can hang out tomorrow, but I really can’t make it today. I’m sorry.  _ \- he replied finally and put the phone away, grabbing a bottle of water, hoping his stomach finally settled.

The headache was starting to reappear, so he buried his face in the pillow, still being observed by Jon. If he was feeling better, he’d surely start to wonder if grabbing his phone wasn’t a sign of ignorance, a reason to make the manager think Andy was lying about his condition.

Thankfully, Jon (unlike some other people) seemed to fully understand. Jonathan thought it just happened sometimes and there was no reason to fight. Or anything like that.

“Get some sleep now, I’ll get you something to eat and painkillers later if you still feel terrible” the manager said.

Andy mumbled something that sounded like an approval of the idea and covered his face with both hands because the sun was starting to burn his eyes again, making the nausea come back.

He ignored the sound of a new text, half-conscious and finally fell asleep, not really aware when that happened. 

He woke up feeling a bit better. He didn’t want to risk getting up, but at least he was able to grab his phone without feeling like he was about to throw up.

He half-emptied the bottle of water he got earlier and opened a text from Matt. From three hours ago.

That was a long sleep.

_ No need to apologize for anything. What’s wrong? _

Andy felt guilty again, Good surely must have had spent the past three hours worrying about him. 

Or he didn’t care and hung out with  _ one of his best friends  _ Danny Worsnop instead.

Surprisingly, Biersack was still able to be jealous, even when he felt terrible.

_ I was asleep, I’m sorry. And it’s just a migraine  _ \- he replied and then texted Jake to ask if he could get him some food.

Andy was still feeling sick, but this time definitely because he was hungry, so he decided to give the rice crackers another chance.

Pitts appeared after a second, just when Matt texted him back. Or so he hoped.

Biersack didn’t read the text immediately, mainly because Jake almost forced a cracker into his hand. 

“I have some sweetened tea if you want, your mom said it helps” the guitarist said, noticing Andy’s sudden paleness at the mention of tea or maybe Amy.

“Did you call my mother?!” Six asked, raising his voice a little. The last thing he needed was his mom worried. She wasn’t supposed to know, or at least, he wanted her to know as little as possible about his issues here, now, so she didn’t worry about them too much.

“Jon did before I could stop him” Jake replied, surprised by the younger boy’s outburst. - “She told you to have a lot of liquids” - sure, Andy could imagine her worried - nervous - tone that sounded like anger, even if it surely wasn’t that one. Or maybe?

That’s how he had always thought it was. Everyone was irritated because he felt ill.

“I’m trying” Biersack said and took a mug of cool tea from Jake. He drank a little, waiting for his stomach’s approval of this decision and when the nausea didn’t hit, he hesitantly took a piece of the rice cracker.

“Are you feeling better overall?” Pitts asked, to which Andy just replied with an affirmative “mhm”, so as not to nod, not risk throwing up again.

He forced himself to finish the cracker and drank half of his tea before grabbing his phone.

He sent a short  _ “I’m fine, I’m doing ok”  _ to Amy and then glanced at the text from Matt.

_ Do you want me to come? Do you need anything? Are you feeling any better? _

He smiled at this expression of concern.

He wasn’t able to appreciate it before. Now he was slowly accepting the concern, the care. It wasn’t irritating him anymore. 

_ You don’t have to, I think the more people will be here, the worse I’ll feel. And I’m good, thanks. I’ll get some more sleep and the headache should be gone -  _ he replied and then finished his tea.

His stomach flipped at this mad decision, but the wave of nausea didn’t last long. 

Probably because now, as an adult, he was able to keep the instinctive reactions under control and force himself to eat, to make it stay down.

“Thanks” Andy handed an empty mug to Jake and glanced at the short “ok” and Matt’s request to let him know if anything changed. - “Can we give the painkillers another chance?” - he asked.

“Give it a moment after the breakfast, okay?” Jake replied, sounding quite unsure.

Andy rolled his eyes mentally. It was always the same.

“Of course I don’t want it just now” he said, slightly irritated. But, if his daily irritation was back, he surely was beginning to feel a little bit better.

He laid on the side, battling Jake on who’s going to blink first, but he lost as soon as he realized he had a migraine and the light was burning his eyes. Maybe not as much as in the morning, but still, from time to time.

He hated those days, being out of life.

***

He felt a bit better in the afternoon.

A bit, because he managed to get up and make it to the kitchen to get something - anything to eat.

He finally ended up on the couch, resting his head on his hand, because this way the migraine wasn’t that bad. In his other hand, he had a cup of instant porridge. He really didn’t want to sit there and he was starting to wonder if he shouldn’t have gone home. At least he would get some peace in there.

Here, he had his ex instead.

At the sight of Ashley’s sardonic smile, Andy sighed with irritation, but it only seemed to get the bassist started.

“Is the kid feeling better finally?” the older man asked sarcastically. He definitely still wasn’t over their breakup. Biersack rolled his eyes in response, making Ash snicker. - “I hope you'll be able to perform tonight.”

“Sure, I’m even going to sing, unlike you. I think I’d also play bass pretty well” Andy replied and took a deep breath as his stomach decided to do another flip.

Sitting while feeling like that was tiring. And he was still supposed to stand up for half an hour in the evening, let alone getting to the stage and back.

“I hope, cause if this is going to repeat, I’ll kick you out” - Ashley said cheerfully. 

That’s why Andy hated him. And he hated himself too, for his younger self’s stupidity.

“You can’t kick me out” he grinned and stirred the porridge.

“But I can break the band up. And quite honestly, I feel like it more and more often, seeing my ex hanging out with some shitty guitarist right in front of me” the bassist said, crossing his arms.

Andy felt the irritation boiling in him from the start of this conversation to dangerously reach it’s breaking point. But he wasn’t going to let Ashley make him burst out. 

“You should’ve been a better boyfriend then” he smiled. - “And remember I have the final word in this band. Get yourself a girlfriend, a boyfriend, anyone, go to fucking therapy, cause you’re starting to become the third wheel” - he had been for a while, but Andy never wanted to admit that.

“The vehicle isn’t going anywhere if the other wheels are missing” Ashley replied. - “I’m talking to you” - he said to Christian, who just stopped in the entrance, surprised by their fight. - “You take his side, you’re out. Everyone.”

“You mad?” CC asked, even more surprised but decided not to add a sarcastic “Is it because you and Andy broke up?”.

Ashley didn’t reply, not quite. He just sent Andy an amused glare and walked out of the bus, probably to get shitfaced.

“The fuck was that?” CC spoke, sitting next to Biersack on the couch. - “You feeling better?”

“Yeah, a bit, thanks” Andy replied, focusing on the porridge finally. Somehow he hated to eat and fight at the same time. - “That was just the jealous loser Ashley” - he shrugged. - “Don’t worry, he’s not gonna fire you guys.”

“I wish we could just kick him out” Coma sighed, playing with a bandana tied around his wrist. - “I mean, we could start a new band, just the four of us.”

“I’m sorry” Andy replied. It was his fault they had to put up with the “bassist”. Pretend to have great fun together. 

It used to be fun, but then something changed. And there was no fun anymore.

Yet, they had to face the consequences.

“Don’t apologize. We all make mistakes. That’s life” CC said and laid on the couch with a sight. - “But quite honestly, I’m glad you left him. He’s a degenerate and a manipulative bitch.”

“He should go to therapy then” Andy sighed, looking down at the empty porridge cup.

The headache was fading a bit, but the boy wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon in bed anyways.

There was no point in going out, the heat would only make him feel worse.

This way, he had his state of being under control.

***

“Come on, let’s get you to bed” Matt said, picking up half-conscious Andy. The singer just finished his set, giving his best to the fans, despite feeling like shit. Too bad that he barely made it off the stage before throwing up, not even making it to the trash can.

It was all the heat’s fault, so the day coming to an end was a blessing now.

Biersack buried his face in Good’s chest, closing his eyes.

The guitarist headed towards Black Veil’s bus, trying to carry the singer as gently as possible, to not make him throw up again, this time because of the bumpy road.

They finally made it to the vehicle, so he sat the boy on the couch.

“Get a shower, I’ll wait for you” Matt said.

Andy let out a weak “mhm”, not even sounding slightly convincing, but he dragged himself to the bathroom, from where the guitarist could hear the sound of running water a moment later.

Good took a bottle of water from the kitchen counter and put it in the fridge before looking around trying to find something to do for the next couple of minutes.

He didn’t find anything interesting, so he settled on a tour guide someone had left in the kitchen. He was thinking of actually using some suggestions from the book as ideas for the coming August and September holidays. They had more than a month of free time before going to Australia and, even thought he knew it wasn’t easy to make Andy leave the house, he could convince him for a trip. Like camping for instance. By the lake. 

The guitarist put the guide away when Biersack walked out of the bathroom, his makeup half wiped, wearing pj’s and barely made it to the bed. He walked up to the younger boy and sat on the edge of the bunk. 

“Would you like some water?” he offered, remembering the bottle in the fridge.

Andy replied with another unconvinced “mhm”, so Good went back to the kitchen and brought the water to Andy, handing him a bottle.

Six drank a few sips and laid back down with a groan, burying his face in the pillow.

“I’ll stay with you for the night, okay?” Matt asked. In response he got another incomprehensible “mhm” so he sat on the edge of the bed again. - “Get some sleep.”

Andy didn’t react to that in any way, he just turned to the other side, facing the wall, his back to the guitarist. 

Matt caught the boy’s hand gently, waiting for him to fall asleep. 

Biersack had mentioned previously that the headache tended to go away in the evening or, if not, in the morning. He just needed to get some sleep.

Ironically, this was almost impossible given the daily shows.

Did Andy know what he was doing, dropping out of high school, forming BVB? Or maybe he regretted it now, that his dreams collided with the harsh reality, when his young, naive and desperate personality got used? Now, that more people seemed to hate his band than love it? Was it worth the price, to be called a fag every day? The fatigue? 

Matt had asked himself the same questions for ages.

He formed From First To Last when he was like fifteen years old. 

Not that no one cared about the band, people just didn’t really remember them from the days of their emo glory.

In addition, at some point Sonny quit. Good remembered when he told him he respected that decision, he didn’t want Moore to be unhappy. He said that again in an interview with that blonde guy always wearing a blue hoodie, Bryan.

Back then, when they ended up without a singer, Matt felt like the world ended. Like the band ended.

Yet, he got his shit together and saved what he loved.

He always did eventually.

He just wished more people appreciated that.

Like his parents.

Picking on him, saying that he was becoming a no one, sacrificing (such a smart boy) his possibilities for a band that was never going to make it, were an everyday thing since he could remember.

When he got his first tattoo, his father would bitch about it whenever he could. 

Just like when he brought home a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend.

_ It’s just a phase, you’ll get over it _ , they said,  _ you’re faking it, making yourself believe you’re gay. Half of you aren’t even homosexual, you just let others fool you to think you are. Ten years ago there wasn’t anything like that, it appeared when the internet became common. _

Or:

_ It happens sometimes, those people exist and that’s it. If you wanna destroy your own life, get a boyfriend, we’re not going to care who you sleep with, son. _

Because of that, he sometimes doubted he was gay. He tried to date women, there were a few but.. that wasn’t what Matt was looking for. 

In his family’s eyes, he was a loser, a black sheep, pretended to be gay, looked like a draft notebook (so many tattoos, a criminal). 

And he had long hair.

_ What, are you a girl or something? _

Stretched ears.

_ I could place a padlock in there and chain you to the table  _ \- accompanied by everyone’s laugh at his aunt’s grill party.

He somehow survived all of this as a teenager, the music, determination, the band somehow helped him go through that difficult time.

He moved out as fast as he could.

He loved his family, but being around them for too long made him feel worse and worse.

He didn’t want to be ungrateful towards them, but he clearly felt better away from his childhood home. 

He made it, in the end.

They saw each other on holidays and they really got along during those visits but Matt thought too much wasn’t good, especially when his parents started asking if he had some  _ husband  _ or wife in mind now that he was approaching thirty years old. 

The guitarist sighed heavily and looked at sleeping Andy, whose breath became even. 

He wrapped a thin Batman blanket around the singer, a blanket he got the younger boy for Christmas last year. Matt took the bottle of water that got stuck under the pillow. It was cute Biersack took the blanket on tour, after all.

Andy sighed in his sleep and rolled to the other side, hugging Matt’s hand like a teddy bear and groaned unhappily when the older man tried to set it free.

“You’re cute” the guitarist laughed, having to accept the fact Biersack took his hand as a teddy.

He leaned against the bunk’s wall and grabbed his phone, glancing at the photos from their yesterday’s date by the bay in the town near San Diego. 

He stopped at the picture of soaked Six, just after he tripped in the water.

The boy was sitting on the sand, mad at everyone in the world, complaining that the ocean attacked him, he couldn’t swim, obviously.

Well, at least the paint leftovers from his chest washed off.

Matt almost laughed out loud at the memory of trying to catch Andy while he was falling, but he slipped from his arms, screaming he’s going to drown. The guitarist forced himself to hold the laughter inside, not wanting to wake Biersack up. 

He loved this brat, more and more every day. 

He glanced at the photo, Andy’s blue eyes illuminated with the sunlight making their depth visible. 

Six was a beautiful boy, even if he was often mistaken for a girl.

No wonder Matt fell in love.

Actually, Andy stole his heart long ago, back when they first met.

The feeling had to wait, though, Good had to accept that he was in love with a man (again!). 

He was happy he’d made peace with that, because now he had the best almost-boyfriend in the world. 

His conservative family had nothing to say.

He wasn’t planning to tell anyone him and Andy were falling for each other. Biersack seemed to share his opinion too.

Honestly… who actually cared?

Except for the singer’s ex, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katy Perry - I kissed a girl (lyrics from this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UhCdAq3hCas )
> 
> SUMMARY:
> 
> Matt and Andy are going on a date to an amusement park. On the way there, they get called names by some old woman, but the date turns out well overall, except for the results of a rollercoaster ride. Andy manages to skip it, as the rules don’t allow him to ride. So the boy waits for Matt with some candy floss.  
> A few days later Biersack wakes up with a migraine - a result of going to sleep late, overall fatigue and overstraining his body in the summer heat. He somehow manages to get better during the day, but Matt has to carry him back to the bus from the show, as the singer’s stomach disapproves the idea of performing in that state.  
> Six falls asleep by Good’s side on Black Veil’s bus. The guitarist recalls his teenage years, beginnings of FFTL, his quite diplomatic relationship with his family, their opinion of his style and sexual orientation. He ends up looking at the photos of the date he had taken Andy the day before - by the bay in a town by San Diego, where the previous Warped Tour stop took place. The guitarist realizes he had loved Biersack - or had a crush on him, letting the feeling to grow - since they met.   
> Apart from that, the hostile relations between Andy and his ex grow deeper as they fight over Six’s poor state of being - if it’s going to repeat, Ash wants to kick him out. And because he can’t technically do that, he wants to break the band up. Or kick out anyone who takes Andy’s side.


	7. Fuck the homecoming king

The middle of August in Oregon, it seemed, usually wouldn’t foreshow the end of summer at all. The heatwave, usually haunting Hillsboro long after the calendar Autumn started, seemed to be absent this year.

The morning of the last day of Warped Tour, August fourteenth, two thousand eleven, was foggy and rainy. It resembled of October, at least, the beginning of November. An aesthetics of fogs lying down over the vast meadows.

“Come back here, I’m cold” Andy pouted when Matt switched hisposition and wrapped his arm around the boy’s waist and not - like a moment ago - around his shoulders.

How on Earth did both of them fit into the tiny bunk, was still a misery but they seemed comfortable having slept like that for the past few days.

“Stop complaining” the guitarist rolled his eyes eyes, but wrapped his arm around Andy’s shoulders again, hugging him a bit tighter. - “Feeling happier now?”

Andy mumbled something incomprehensible in response. It sounded vaguely positive, so Matt kissed his bare shoulder blade, as the tank top Six was wearing barely covered it.

It was around seven, so they could enjoy a bit of a lie in. Besides, today was the last day of the festival and except for Warped Prom, there wasn’t much planned for the evening.

Warped Prom.

They were going to go there together. Officially - just like most people thought - as friends, because to everyone’s knowledge, none of them had a girlfriend. They weren’t planning to come out anytime soon either. It was no one’s business after all and the last thing they needed were more people calling them fags. Besides, things could get worse and - even though the most dangerous thing at D.R.U.G.S.’ shows were ten years old KISS fans flipping the stage off without blinking a single time during the whole duration of the set, bored waiting for the main star, the legend, there were numerous incidents of bottles being thrown at Biersack at Black Veil’s shows. So far, no one managed to actually hit him, but Matt didn’t want the hate to get worse. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Andy.

That’s why they kept their relationship a secret.

The only ones who knew - realized the truth - were both bands. Did they take the two seriously? It depended.

D.R.U.G.S. didn’t really care, CC congratulated the happy couple, Jake and Jinxx stayed neutral and Ashley, it seemed, wasn’t that much bothered. He most probably assumed it all was a hoax to make him feel jealous. Pathetic, as he would say.

The whole situation resulted in everyone being happy, especially Matt and Andy, almost a month into the relationship. A relationship indeed, because they finally made it official (between them). Or rather - it just happened.

The other night Andy realized he didn’t want anyone else by his side but Matt. He couldn’t imagine the future with any other person, no one could replace the guitarist. The next day they went on a date and the singer just confessed his feelings to the older man, somehow and - because they were both sentimental - they decided to tie the bond with cheap beaded bracalets they found on some stalls.

A couple of days later Matt asked Andy to go to Warped Prom with him. Just in time - because Biersack realized the party was coming up and he was about to assume that Good either forgot about him or had other plans and was just playing with his feelings.

Now, knowing there was some kind of a bond between them - even though it wasn’t much - that connected them two, Six felt much more confident. And happier. The realization that someone cared about him, was there for him and was going to move in with him, made him feel wanted. Even if they weren’t near each other - like on separate tours, approaching implacably. The Australian tour was going to be their last one together that year. The other two - European and winter - were planned for Black Veil only. Andy wasn’t sure about D.R.U.G.S. concert plans for that time period, but he doubted Jon would agree to take Matt with them.

So they were going to go to Warped Prom together, as a couple, as a secret - and Andy couldn’t wait. Despite his aversion towards clubs and drunk people inside them, he liked this kind of parties. They were less formal - happened less often - and his friends were around.

And because the Prom wasn’t going to take place in any of the clubs, everyone had to take care of having a place to party.

Unfortunately, they didn’t take bad weather and the chilly morning into account, back when they agreed to help with decorations.

Well, now they couldn’t find an excuse to not show up, it was too late. But at least they could still enjoy their lie in.

*

It was still cold around ten. Or rather - even though there were around seventy five degrees, the cold wind was blowing so hard it was freezing.

“We have to set the speakers up, but careful, they’re quite heavy. Also, we need to hang the festoons up, decorate the stage and set the tables” some guy Andy couldn’t recall, said.

A group of people responsible for setting the place up (aka all the musicians) was standing in a field near to some woods. The man who spoke, could be around thirty-something years old, dark haired, quite muscular, he had a beard and was wearing sunglasses. Biersack could swear it was the first time he saw him.

“Oh right and we have to set the tent up” the man realized with a face palm. - “We’re gonna start with that.”

“It’s gonna fly away” - some girl said when another wind gust moved the branches of a nearby pine tree. Her voice was familiar and when Andy turned into her direction, he saw it was his “would-be” love that punched him last month.

Biersack sighed and focused his gaze on the metal sticks lying in the grass. How on Earth were they supposed to turn them into the tent frame?

The girl was right, the canvas, if not tied properly, would most definitely fly away as soon as it could and Biersack hoped this wouldn’t happen.

He wasn’t the biggest fan of setting tents up, especially the big ones. He even used to have a similar one - green or red, he wasn’t sure - in the backyard, back in Cincinnati, when he was a child.

The metal frame was shaking from the wind, making an unsettling cracking sound, as if it was about to collapse.

Luckily, it didn’t, even though the big, white tarpaulin decided to fly away towards the opposite side of the field. They barely managed to catch it. The sight of Chris Motionless, running across the meadow, wearing all black and platforms, was actually hilarious, even if the boots turned out to be helpful when he jumped to catch the rope of the tent.

“Fucking bastard” he said when he dragged the fabric back to the others, with a little help of Ricky Horror and two guys of A Day To Remember whose names Andy couldn’t recall.

The four of them attempted to place the tarpaulin on the frame once again, this time successfully.

They then moved on to tying the laces of the tent walls to the metal construction. When this was done, the interior of the tent became much warmer, as it was now covered, protected from the wind gusts, still mercilessly hitting the fabric walls, making the frame crack.

“Speakers and decorations now” the same bearded thirty-something-year-old reminded, making his way towards the stage.

Andy only managed to turn into the direction of giant speaker columns set one on top of the other on a trailer outside the tent, when Matt’s arm stopped him.

Biersack raised an eyebrow, surprised, as it was rather unusual for Good to forbid the singer to do something. Besides, they talked about it a thousand times, too.

“You just broke your ribs” the guitarist said, as if it was going to do the trick. It didn’t, but Six didn’t want to fight in front of everyone either.

“The speakers aren’t that heavy, come on” the singer rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. - “And also my ribs have healed by now.”

Matt sighed deeply. He quite expected that.

Andy was stubborn as fuck and he had to prove the world that boiling water wouldn’t burn his hand if he stuck it inside the glass.

“I’m sure you’re well aware that if you come up to that trailer, everyone - cause you’ve already managed to become the internet star with your graceful fall - will ask you to find something lighter to do. It’ll get even worse if you try, you know that” - the guitarist said, satisfiedly seeing that Andy seemed like he was going to agree.

Six rolled his eyes and shook his head, clearly unhappy, but made his way towards the festoon box. His pride was still broken, because he knew well that Matt didn’t mean his ribs at all - or not only the ribs - but he didn’t understand why the man decided to change his mind and start forbiding Andy to do things so suddenly. Especially that he had never had any issues with that before.

Maybe he was afraid of the relationship with Andy?

Or worried about his health?

Was Matt becoming one of those people who were totally sure the boy was going to kick the bucket on the street?

If so, Biersack decided to show the guitarist that he was terribly wrong.

The singer sighed, hearing bits of a conversation between a tattooed guy he had never seen before, and another one, who he only recognized from sight, but had no idea which band he was from.

What Andy managed to catch from the conversation was that the first man was most probably pansexual and seemed to be really irritated with the convo. No wonder though, the other guy had already managed to ask him three times if pansexuality meant feeling sexual attraction towards pans. Besides, it seemed like he needed to ask about every single detail, coming out, wellbeing, how the man’s family reacted and so on.

The tattooed guy answered politely to every single of the questions thrown at him, but it was clearly visible he wished the conversation was over. Ironically, the other man didn’t seem to be done.

“Do you know where we should hang this?” Andy asked, interrpupting the awkward conversation.

The tattoed guy seemed grateful for that, however his friend looked clearly irritated.

By “this”, Six meant a flowery chain of lightbulbs he was holding, as he had no idea what to do with it. The years of practice made him learn that any kind of willing to help was no use when there were girls around. They always found a reason to complain. The butterflies were hanging half an inch too far to the left, the angle was wrong. The same thing had to be fixed a hundred times, otherwise they weren’t satisfied.

There were quite a lot of females in the tent, so Biersack decided not to risk being too willing to help around.

“I think it’ll look fine if you hang it across the ceiling. You know what I mean, one chain going from this side to the other” - he pointed to the two opposite corners of the tent. - “And the other one the opposite way, so that they cross in the middle.”

Andy nodded, allowing the tattooed man to grab one side of the chain. He seemed clearly happy to finally be able to end the conversation about his sexuality.

Six, to prevent it from starting again, took the guy to the other side of the tent, to the corner, where both him and Andy focused on attaching the lamps to a net hung by the ceiling.

It was quite creative, Biersack had to admit, allowing the celing to be decorated anywhere they wanted.

Once they attached the flower chains to the corners of the room, they proceeded to bringing the chairs and tables in. Luckily, Matt was still on the other side of the tent, so the singer could only see his look of disapproval when he noticed Andy carrying a couple of plastic garden chairs, one on top of the other.

But they weren’t heavy.

Good was just being overprotective.

Definitely.

*

Somehow, even with a busy morning consisting of setting the tent up and soundchecks, Matt and Andy still managed to find some time to hang out in town before the show.

Officially - to get something to eat. In reality - they wanted the last day of Warped Tour to be special.

Normally, they didn’t have time to just wander around, cuddle on park benches. To annoy old ladies.

“I can’t believe time flies so fast” Andy said, wrapping the leather jacket he was wearing, tighter around him. The freezing wind seemed to have decided to knock all the nearby trees over. - “Warped’s just started yesterday.”

“And you were stuck in bed complaining you wanted to watch ‘V for Vendetta’, even though we just finished it” Matt laughed and moment later suddenly grabbed Andy by the jacket before he ended up getting run over by a car. - “Careful.”

“I’m trying” Andy said with an innocent smile. He didn’t see the coming car that just passed just a few inches away from his face. The driver even managed to throw his fist at him. Fine - he had to admit - it was irresponsible.

Why did he find it funny then?

It seemed the singer just enjoyed being on the edge - but having control.

It made him feel somewheat strong, satisfied, no matter how stupid it was.

Maybe that’s why some years ago he experimented with his eating habits, last year - with alcohol, sleep deprivation - there were many things on the list.

Was it a result of the inability to influence every situation in his life - since he could remember - that made him - subconsciously - seek the feeling of control?

Andy wanted to feel.. free. He hated being trapped, feeling tied to something.

The realization that he could possibly lose this freedom one day, scared the living shit out of him.

Six’s soul hated to be unable to do something, to dare to do something.

Was he crazy? Of course. Did he feel bad because of it? Of course not.

He realized ages, ages ago that he only had one life and there were twenty four hours in a day, everyday, for everyone. No more, no less. The choice how to make use of that time was up to him.

Even though some days he ran out of spoons, he still tried to do his best.

“Oh yeah, I can clearly see how you’re _trying_ \- Matt sighed with disapproval.

They were walking down a wide square, trees growing on both of its sides. It seemed full of people, but at the same time somehow empty.

The wind was howling high up in the treetops of the maples planted on the both sides of the pavement, malevolently, it seemed.

The proximity of Autumn could be smelled in the air, even though there was still a little over a month of summer left.

They passed by a street saxophonist playing some minor-key melody, that the wind carried far away into the gloomy aura of the chilly afternoon.

Summer was coming to an end, inevitably, even here, in hot Hillsboro, Oregon.

The freezing air was making Andy shake like a leaf, so Matt wrapped his hoodie around the boy and pulled him closer to his chest.

Not that the guitarist was feeling super warm or anything, he just cared about Biersack and the last thing they needed was a cold.

Another wind gust brought dry leaves and some tissues and bags from the pavement, mixed with the sound of the saxophone, more and more quiet, the farther they were from the city centre, heading towards the suburbs, the festival grounds.

The last day, the last shows, the last moments of freedom before the boring routine was going to start again.

*

Ashley was gone.

Andy didn’t care much about it, letting Jon find the bassist, or more like - the “bassist”. First of, the manager was getting paid for taking care of the band and besides, the singer wanted to avoid the older man’s suggestions that he must’ve been missing him a lot if he actually took the trouble to look for him.

Purdy was most probably busy somewhere with his female friends (for whom Andy was feeling really sorry and hoped one day they’d find some better company) or preoccupied with some cheap corn alcohol consumption. Nothing unusual, predictable.

Biersack focused back on the finishing touches of his warpaint for tonight, humming “The Holly Situation” softly.

He didn’t get why this song never made it to D.R.U.G.S. album, it was awesome. Just like “Rehab In Rifle Rounds”. This song had the soul of that era, black haired boys wearing skinny jeans of the same color, girls taking MySpace angle selfies in the bathroom, hoping the staightener and makeup products left on the counter wouldn’t end up in the picture. “Rawr xD” in the captions, meaning “I love you” in dinosaur. This whole cringe that he was going to miss in a couple of years’ time.

Because that era, as much as it was cheesy, the era of the very first smartphones, was also an era of Andy’s teenage freedom. Even if he got kind of lost in it.

Many times, later, he would say that 2011 sucked, that he regretted his decisions back in that era, that he was feeling much better later. And maybe he really did, but every misery had a grain of nostalgia - and he missed the carelessness he had left in the past.

Andy put the eyeliner back into the cosmetic bag and took a final look at the masterpiece his makeup was that evening.

He really did his best in drawing the lines on his face - normally he wouldn’t do them as carefully.

Well, Warped Tour’s end wasn’t everyday. He wanted to highlight it somehow.

The singer grabbed his hairbrush and hairspray, not that his hair needed both anyways. He washed it every couple of days, blame it on the inconvenience of living on a bus, so the hairspray stayed in for most of the time anyways. So did the tangles. Andy’s hairstyle was already big and teased, streaks almost glued together, a bunch of feathers stuck here and there, too.

He really needed a haircut, Matt was right.

Too bad Andy couldn’t see himself in any other hairstyle. He got quite attached to his long hair and feared that cutting it might take some of his personality away. That he would somehow become ordinary - and he didn’t want that. He didn’t feel comfortable looking like everyone else, even if the price for standing out meant misgendering him and calling him names.

This look - the image of the whole Set The World On Fire era - was iconic.

Andy had no intention of getting rid of it, despite the hair damage.

He placed the hairspray can back on the table and got up to find Matt before the show. He needed a hug for the best performance he could ever give and he also had to give the older man’s hoodie back to him. Good refused to take it back when Biersack was still shaking from cold, when they came back from town.

Andy grabbed the hoodie from the chair, trying not to stain it with wet black paint covering his skin (the fabric was light grey) and walked out of the bus.

As far as he remembered, D.R.U.G.S.’ vehicle was parked just next to Black Veil’s.

And he wasn’t wrong.

He only didn’t expect to see Ashley by the bus.

Talking to Matt.

Actually, it seemed like the bassist was trying to forcefully keep the conversation with the guitarist who looked quite uncomfortable and - what Andy noticed the next moment - was backing off more and more, whereas the older one was approaching him.

Kinda like… he was… hitting up on Matt?

Or something like that.

Andy sighed heavily, ready to walk up to Ashley and punch him. He almost did, but Matt was quicker. The bassist barely managed to try to - what it seemed like - touch (gently?) Good’s face, as if he was going to kiss him? - the younger man grabbed his wrist and pulled him away, pinning him to the bus side, which looked hilarious, given the height difference between them, as the shorter of them seemed to be hanging a few inches above the ground, kicking the air, while the guitarist was still holding his clothes by the chest in a tight grip.

“Next time” Matt said coldly. - “I will fucking kill you. Don’t you ever dare to get close to me. Leave Andy alone too. If I see you around him, I swear, I’ll fucking kill you. And you know, I’m not joking. “ - he added before letting go of Ashley and turned around, facing the shocked Biersack.

The singer would’ve never thought Matt was capable of something like this. Not that it was bad - it was actually the opposite - but he always seemed to be a chill person, not a fan of fights.

Well, it seemed everyone had their limits.

“You okay?” the guitarist asked, giving Andy, who still seemed to be deeply shocked, a concerned look.

“I was about to ask the same” Biersack replied, instantly burying his face in Matt’s chest. - “Did he hurt you?”

Good shook his head and stroke the singer’s hair gently, smiling softly at the little height difference between the two of them.

“I got you your hoodie back” Andy said finally, taking a step back away from Matt, noticing he stained his t-shirt with black paint. - “I’m sorry.”

“No worries” the older man took the grey fabric from the singer and tied the hoodie around his waist. - “Be careful at the show, please. If anything happens, I’ll be right backstage. I won’t let him hurt you, he’s fucking insane.”

“And I have to put up with that” Andy sighed, brushing a streak of his long bangs away. - “Without an expiration date.”

*

Ashley seemed to have taken Matt’s words seriously (which actually seemed impossible), because he didn’t come close to Andy during the whole show.

The concert was unusually short, mostly because it started raining at some point, so they shortened the set, not wanting the crowd to soak. Even though, it was clearly visible that the kids enjoyed the show anyways - luckily, becasue Biersack would never forgive himself if Black Veil’s last show on Warped Tour sucked.

The evening came faster than they expected and the wind became stronger.

Surprisingly, it didn’t stop anyone from cancelling the party for the end of the festival, which actually became a tradition by now.

Warped Tour without Warped Prom couldn’t just end.

“Ready?” Matt asked Andy, raising his eyes from a bottle of arythmia pills, which directions of use he was reading out of boredom. - “It says here you can get depressed and become deaf if you take these. What do you say?” - he laughed.

“I’m already depressed” Andy shrugged, wiping some lipstick off his skin with a thumb, where he went outside the lip line. - “And I’ll probably be deaf by thirty anyways, c’est la vie” - he added and placed the lipstick on the table. The bright red content of the bottle was just some leftovers by now. He started using this shade at the AP Tour and it was already a couple of months ago.

Matt laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re insane” he said and placed the bottle of pills back into the cotton bag with some city view printed at the front. Andy had mentioned that he got it at some university fair, back in high school. One of the colleges advertised its offer this way.

He said he’d considered it but then dropped out of high school anyways.

“I’m just realistic” Biersack smiled innocently and put on a green flannel. The same one that he was wearing for the meeting with Jon regarding the very first Black Veil tour a few years ago. Now it was a bit more worn off, but it didn’t look bad. Actually, it was quite the opposite - it was a perfect fit for the leather jacket on a chilly August evening.

Andy stood up and offered his hand to Matt, in order to make him move his ass up from the sofa.

The party had started more than half an hour ago, but they were hoping to put off the moment they had to leave for as long as possible. The coldness outside was a good reason to miss a party, even thought both of them wanted to be in the tent after all.

So they walked out of Black Veil’s warm bus, right into the middle of the windstorm.

The wind and the rain were hitting them madly, trying to force them back inside, or so it seemed.

But they made it eventually, just a little soaked.

The music was defeaning, much louder, it seemed, than during the daily shows. Some ten-years-old pop songs. “Candy Shop”, it turned out, so just half a decade then, to be specific.

The hit song of every school dance party in the first year of high school, Andy thought ironically.

The interior of the tent in the darkness, made a great impression on him. The chains of lights and flowers of different colors, depending on the place they were situatied - there was white light above the bar and a darker shades of purple, blue and red over the dance floor.

The stroboscopes’ flashing lights changed the sequence depending on the music rhytm - now “Family Affair”.

The resurrected old songs made that night feel nostalgic. Something was ending, a chapter - but that was the point.

Warped Tour was coming to an end, just like the summer holidays.

The loud music was drowning the cracking sound of the tent out, being constantly moved by the wind gusts. only from time to time it was possible to feel a freezing breeze getting inside through the holes between the places where the walls were tied to the sticks.

The amount of people inside successfully heated the place up, making it too hot for a leather jacket.

“Let’s grab something to drink and we can be wallflowers in peace” Matt said, gently holding Andy’s hand. It was dark anyways, no one would see the gesture.

Biersack nodded barely noticable and moved closer to the guitarist.

It was loud. A remix of “Heads Will Roll”, but somehow slowed, seemed to be filling up all the free space left in the tent with the sound.

And, surprisingly, it was fine. It really was fine.

For the first time in ages, Six wasn’t struggling with any thoughts that had made themselves comfortable in his mind.

The only thing he cared about in that moment, was Warped Prom. He finally didn’t have to pretend to be someone who he wasn’t, wear the mask of a badass persona they portrayed him as. No one had any unreachable expectations towards him.

In the crowd, not many people recognized him and even if they did, the level of the sound loundness didn’t allow to hold a conversation without shouting.

Warped Tour was ending the right way and he really felt good at that party.

They walked up to the bar to grab something to drink, to then hide in the corner with two plastic cups of orange juice with some ice.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Matt asked suddenly, as they sat there hugging, looking at the crowd on the dance floor. - “Homecoming.”

“Kinda looks like it” Andy shrugged. The party reminded him more of an actual high school prom - hence the name. - “But I don’t think I’d would want to go to my high school homecoming. Even if I graduated like everyone else” - he added a moment later and took a sip from his cup.

Homecoming only reminded him of girls that wore too much makeup and impossibly expensive dresses just for one night, his class (and older years). He couldn’t stand them back then. Now - law, economy, business, whatever - students, maybe even mothers - they’d be much worse. So would the boys, how many sport players were there, in his class, stupid as fuck, dreaming only to shag all those future businesswomen, an one night stand to leave the poor girl with a broken heart, only to boast about it later. Disgusting.

He didn’t belong there and the last thing he wanted was to appear in Cincinnati during such homecoming, even if he was much more successful overall, than the others. At least in terms of popculture.

Surprisingly, here, at Warped, he felt good, he felt like he belonged. Like he was around people just like him. Warped Tour was a music festival for the outcasts, after all.

His dream of having a straight-from-the-movie prom finally came true.

Even if he was twenty, not eighteen.

Andy smiled softly and placed his head on Matt’s shoulder, letting the older man hug him.

And they sat like that, sat like that for most of the evening, while Sandstorm, that Good played for him once on his eight-string guitar named Hermione, was playing. Frankie Goes To Hollywood (Relax, don’t do it, Andy’s favorite motivational quote), INXS, some pop classics from the beginning of the previous decade and the middle of it. Sunglasses At Night, some song about flashing lights, electronics straight from Daft Punk, as well as this fanfic author’s personal favorite - “Lady” - surprisingly, rock classics barely appeared.

Andy let Matt hug him and take him to the dance floor, where they hugged even more, pretending to dance to “Ain’t Talking ‘Bout Love”.

They were about to come back to their corner when Modjo played again, with the same song - it seemed like the ten-years-old classics of French electronic music never got old.

 _Lady, hear me tonight_ \- Andy wasn’t a lady but he loved the song anyways.

He was ten again, wrapping up the Christmas tree with Chris. Back then, he didn’t know that the bald guy in the music video was a third wheel. That the three characters were in some kind of a relationship different than friendship. He only felt sorry for them because their car broke down.

And he was worried - back then - that if they ended up on a field in the middle of absolutely nowhere, did they make it to where they were going? - he assumed it was Paris.

He was ten.

And now he was twenty. He saw that music video on TV lately. Two months ago when Matt wouldn’t let him get out of bed.

He noticed every single detail he missed a decade ago, surprised, how differently he saw the world now.

It was fascinating.

“May I have your attention please?” someone poked the microphone, the music stopped and a female voice could be heard. - “Just like every year, we need to elect the king and queen of the prom. Grab a piece of paper and put your votes into the can at the bar. We’ll announce the results in an hour. Now keep having fun!” - the girl, Paramore’s singer, as Andy noticed, said, before walking off the stage, accompanied by the sound of an electronic song which kinda resembled of trance. Biersack knew this track, but he couldn’t recall the title. He only remembered there was a guy with mustache in the video.

“Will I become the queen of Warped Prom?” - Six asked, hugging Matt who lifted him up slightly and kissed his lips gently. Good tasted like orange juice and cigarettes. Familiar.

“Surely” the guitarist replied. - “I think they just got some pizza, do you want something to eat?”

*

Andy didn’t become Warped Prom queen, neither did Matt become the king. They didn’t mind it that much, giving the crowns away to Ash Costello and Craig Owens.

They went home - to the bus - around four in the morning.

It was pouring.

As they were leaving, a few drunk couples were swaying to an eighties classic - “Too shy”. None of them probably knew it, but it didn’t matter much if the track was catchy.

 _You’re too shy shy, hush hush, eye to eye_ \- it sounded kinda weird, wrong, as long as Andy got the lyrics right.

The wind was lashing the freezing rain at them as they were running towards the BVB bus, where Matt basically lived now.

At some point Andy slipped on something what seemed to be a page of a newspaper stuck on the concrete and ended up falling on the pavement.

“Everything okay?” Matt asked, helping the younger boy up, hoping he didn’t break his ribs again. Or anything else.

“I think so” Biersack replied, his voice sounding more like a gasp. It was probably just a shock, cause he managed to stand straight. It didn’t hurt much either, except for his back aching down where the sun didn’t reach. - “Come on, let’s go or I’ll freeze here” - he asked, wrapping his arms around himself, shaking from the wind.

“I’ll give you a piggyback ride, okay?” Matt offered, because Six’s legs still seemed weak, like they were going to collapse under him. Also his right cowboy boot’s sole, glued with superglue to the rest of the shoe, fell back off.

Andy nodded and hugged the guitarist’s back a moment later, closing his eyes, collapsing under the sudden wave of tiredness when the emotions wore off.

They headed towards the bus, accompanied with 80s pop quieting down, drowned out with the windstorm, as they moved away from the tent.

Inside the vehicle, there wasn’t anyone, even Jon seemed to have disappeared. He had an affair with some female manager for the past few couple of weeks though, so it didn’t seem suspicions that he was gone.

Andy found two bags of tea and made some for both of them to warm up, because they were completely soaked. He was going to add some honey and lemon slices to the brew. They always had these two ingredients on the bus - in case he lost his voice again, which tended to happen quite a lot.

“Do you want the teddies mug or the unicorn one?” Andy asked Matt a few moments later. He had no idea where those came from but at least they were the perfect size for tea with a slice of lemon - one pint.

“Unicorns” Good replied and reached for the mug. - “Shame you don’t have any Harry Potter ones” - he added, clearly disappointed.

“I’ll get you one for your birthday” Biersack said, sitting on the guitarist’s lap. - “Griffindor is overrated, team Slytherin” - he added, satisfiedly seeing that he broke Matt’s heart.

“You’re god-awful” Good sighed sadly, clearly broken over how things were.

“So I’m a perfect fit for Slytherin” Andy smiled widely and kissed the older man’s cheek, in case the guitarist was going to tell him there wouldn’t be a kiss goodnight for this vile kind of behavior.

Matt shook his head with disapproval and mentioned something about Biersack regretting his words when they move in together, because he would make him watch every single Harry Potter movie, especially that the second part of The Deathly Hallows just came out.

“Make me” Andy chirped and got up, heading towards the tiny bus bathroom, to warm up completely after falling on the wet concrete.

Fifteen minutes later Matt was done playing an offended princess, even though he still considered Andy tasteless. He still considered him his boyfriend, though, and he wanted to hug him, it was cold outside.

Andy really was in the mood for cuddling too.

He buried his face in Matt’s tattooed chest, gently tracing the drawings’ lines with his fingers, craving for attention. Even if they still had to learn how to show that attention to each other, when sex was out of question.

“Are you feeling warmer now?” the guitarist asked, moving his hand down the singer’s wet hair.

Biersack nodded, mumbling some confirmation quietly and closed his eyes.

“You’re too comfy” he said, half-asleep and wrapped his arm around Matt. - “Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

Nevermind that it was dawning outside.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally up! Can't believe I haven't written for over a month. I'll try to post more regular updates and also the next chapters will be more eventful, it's just that this one had to resemble the end of summer, when you don't really do much, so not much is going on either.


	8. Aren't we a perfect mess?

Unlike the previous night, the morning of August 15th was hot as fuck, making everyone’s hangover feel worse than it actually was, in addition to how tired they already were after the party. The latter was a pain for every single person at Warped, no wonder though, the Prom ended at dawn.

“I think I’m gonna die” CC said, as he got on the bus. He looked miserable, his hair a mess, body still stained from paint. Where his boots were, no one knew.

The drummer was the first person to appear since Matt and Andy came back earlier this morning. Even if it was barely ten o’clock.

The rest of the band was missing and so were Jon and any will to live.

Biersack could imagine the manager asleep somewhere in the bushes with the love of his life, after the drinking bout. If it was so, he surely wasn’t awake yet, but Six was certain that if someone found Jonathan like that, he’d get his shit together in a matter of seconds, acting like nothing happened.

“Please don’t” Andy said to CC. He wasn’t feeling the best either, sleep deprived after pulling an (almost) all nighter. Despite getting five hours of sleep, he was still tired.

His stomach felt heavy, his body cold, even though it was scorching hot outside. The day was going to be shitty and yet, they still had a whole journey back home ahead.

According to what Jon had said, they were supposed to reach Los Angeles tomorrow morning. Andy wasn’t really keen on spending so many hours on the bus.

He could only hope to avoid headache somehow. And Ashley.

Even though Six hadn’t seen the bassist since the previous day, he still didn’t want that to encounter him anywhere.

The existence of the man itself somehow irritated Biersack. He couldn’t control that so he wanted to stay as far away as possible, if he was forced to tolerate the bassist in the band.

At times, he still hoped he would be able to get rid of this motherfucker, but as of now, it didn’t seem possible. None of the lawyers were able to find a paragraph, an escape that could save the band.

As a last resort, they could start over, just the four of them. They would form a new band, under a different name, from scratch.

Too bad that starting with a clean slate had more disadvantages than advantages.

They’d have to build the fanbase once again, get the views on Youtube. No one would associate them with Black Veil Brides anymore, they wouldn’t be the same thing after all.

Who could say they’d make it this time?

Besides, Ashley had quite a lot of fans. Actually, Andy wouldn’t be surprised if half of the fandom consisted of them. It was pretty much divided between the fans of him and the fans of the bassist.

And if he kicked the older man out, the other half of the fandom wouldn’t let them be.

They were already getting more hate than actual support. If they got rid of a man with whom Andy pretended to be best friends so much that no one would ever think it was all fake, the band’s career would be over.

Nothing would fix this, Biersack’s short temper already damaged his reputation enough. The stories of how he apparently told people to move faster at meet and greets so he could be done quicker, were circulating around, even though he’d never said anything like that.

Ashley? The fangirls’ sugar daddy, teenage idol, a paragon of virtue, so handsome, what an icon of the band.

Well, for a person whose looks were his only strength, he had quite a lot of positive traits people assigned to him.

Too bad they were all made up.

Andy couldn’t even suggest that something was wrong. First of, he didn’t want to start a public drama on who was guilty of their breakup, as it would mean coming out as gay to everyone. That’s the last thing he wanted, he’d had enough of insults thrown at him. Also, all the contracts he had to-was manipulated to sign at the age of eighteen, prevented the truth from being brought to light.

So he kept the animosity inside, hoping that one day a miracle would happen, Ashley would fall down the stairs, break his fingers or maybe even neck and wouldn’t be able to play with them anymore.

He could also quietly hope that the bassist wouldn’t come back to the bus today, that he got lost somewhere last night.

No one missed the older man, even though they all showed him a bit of civility at times.

Jake and Jinxx seemed to blatantly despise the bassist, no wonder though, if he was trying to pretend to know how to play the guitar. It must’ve been irritating, especially that he played maybe like three chords during his whole life.

Besides, Andy had enough of him, too and not only because of their relationship. The bassist’s favorite passtime activity was giving Biersack advice on how to sing. Or suggesting that he couldn’t, that he was doing it all wrong.

Quite hypocritical for someone who sounded like a goat being stabbed with a stick where the sun never reached.

“Please remember I loved you all” CC said suddenly, making Six come back to reality. After saying that, he laid down on the couch, groaning as if he really was about to die.

“Fine, but trust me you’ll be fine once you get some sleep” Andy replied and got out of his bunk to handle the drummer a bottle of water. - “We’ll probably stop at Maccies or somewhere later” - he added and grabbed a bottle of orange juice to boost his energy with sugar. Did it even work like that?

Matt left fifteen minutes ago or something, saying he’d get some coffee and he still wasn’t back, so Andy was desperately trying to stay awake. Someone had to let Good in the bus and CC had already drifted off.

Biersack sighed and came back to his bunk to grab a lyrics notebook. Surprisingly, despite the tiredness, he had some inspiration to write.

He opened the notebook on some lyric lines he optimistically called “Coffin” and bit on the pen, reading what he’d previously written.

The aggressive tone of the song sounded a bit egoistical but he didn’t feel bad about it. Besides, other Black Veil lyrics were similar in style, so he could use it as an excuse.

Biersack was about to continue writing when he heard the sound of knocking on glass.

He sighed heavily and got up, passing sleeping Christian by, then made his way towards the front of the bus to open the door for Matt.

“I thought you were asleep” the guitarist said, seeing Andy in the entrance. The boy was wearing ripped jeans, barefoot, absolutely no makeup and his hair was a mess. A typical Monday morning.

“Then thinking is not your best skill” Andy replied, running his fingers through the tangled mess of hair. He tended to complain when sleep deprived.

“I love you too, honey, but I think you can find some kindness inside of you, like come on, you still have a good half a heart” the guitarist handed Six a paper cup filled with coffee. - “Decaf, to take care of that half.”

“Thanks” Andy rolled his eyes and moved aside to let Matt inside the bus. - “Can we go back to sleep now?” - he asked after closing the door behind them. The others, whenever they planned to come back, knew the entrance code, so he didn’t have to worry about waiting for them.

“You’ll get sleep at home” Good laughed, kneeling down to unlace the sneakers he was wearing, as Biersack suggested sleeping.

“Yeah, on a mattress in Jake’s apartment. Sounds lovely” Andy placed the cup on the kitchen counter with way too much force, to demonstrate his irritation.

“Who says you’re coming back to Jake’s?” Matt raised an eyebrow and got back up, grabbing his coffee, obviously not caring that if he drank it, he wouldn’t be able to sleep later. Actually, it didn’t matter that much, he just wanted to cuddle with Andy. And give him an ass massage cause it most probably was still hurting after last night’s fall.

“Well, first of, your flat is too small” Biersack shrugged and made his way towards the back of the bus, to his bunk, not looking back at the guitarist. He really didn’t seem to be in the mood today.

Matt sighed and followed the boy, then sat next to him on the edge of the small bunk.

“I’ve got a double bed, we’ll both fit in there” he said, hugging Andy, who rested his head on the older man’s shoulder. - “Besides we’re gonna find a new place in a couple of days anyway. Perfect for a month of holidays.”

Matt could feel Andy nod without switching positions, only letting out a heavy sight.

He let the boy lie like that for a while before suggesting they should lay down, but then he realized Andy had already fallen asleep.

Cute, he thought and laid the boy in the bed, wrapping a Batman blanket around him, before snuggling next to him, lying on the side, playing with Six’s fingers. The nail polish was coming off, but it didn’t really matter much, Warped was over anyways. Now they just had to survive the long journey back to Los Angeles.

Matt wasn’t planning to go back to his bus for that time, which he texted his manager the next moment.

Andy was too much of a cozy pillow to go anywhere.

He spoon-hugged the boy from behind and gently kissed his bare shoulderblade.

He hoped Biersack would sleep through most of the journey so he wouldn’t complain, as the boy tended to do when bored, but he got his hopes up too high when he saw hungover Jake on the horizon.

“You two should better leave the bus now, his ex got shitfaced last night, found some prostitutes and now keeps talking how the press needs to find out that Andy’s a cunt or something like that. In general, I think he wants to tell everyone what’s wrong with Six. Jon seems to have sorted him out for now, but it’s better if he doesn’t see either of you here or else he’s seriously gonna do it. We can’t take Twitter away from him” Pitts said and leaned his head against the wall, seemingly trying to stop a wave of nausea.

“I’ll fucking kill him” Matt replied and leaned over Andy to wake him up.

 _“It’s time to get up, love”_ didn’t help much, so he turned to more drastic ways of forcing Biersack out of bed and poured water on him.

“What the fuck…” Andy groaned, rubbing his eyes. - “For fucks sake, now I have a headache, fuck off” - he said, when he realized Good woke him up.

“It’ll go away once you get some fresh air. Get dressed, your ex will be here in a second and I really can’t be arsed to tolerate him today” Matt rolled his eyes.

Six didn’t look happy about how things seemed to be, but he dragged himself out of bed, complaining that he’s not getting anything out of it anyways.

 _Peace of mind and no dramas_ , the guitarist thought, but didn’t say it out loud.

Andy laced his sneakers (as one of the cowboy boots, the one he broke last night, was currently stuck under a box of beer, so the glue could tie the leather properly to the sole. They fixed that in the morning, before Matt left to get coffee.

They just walked out of the bus straight into a sunny Monday morning when Good basically dragged the singer towards the parking exit. Black Veil’s bassist was coming from the other side and Matt didn’t want to test his abilities. If Jake was truly right.

The truth was though, that Ashley was accompanied by Jon, but it still didn’t give them any certainty that things were in control.

“It’s too warm” Andy complained, trying to straighten the unironed Gorillaz t-shirt he stole from Matt the other day. It was a bit too big for him, but it only made the boy more adorable, the guitarist thought. - “So where are we going?”

“To get henna tattoos” Matt said. He didn’t know why he thought about this exactly, but actually, the idea didn’t seem that stupid. Chances were it would take enough time to get the situation with Ashley back in control.

The bus call was in the afternoon anyways, once the gear was packed up, so what hurt to try?

The paintings would be a perfect memory from the summer, they lasted for a few weeks. Also, the guitarist really doubted Andy wasn’t allowed to get them.

“Seriously?” the singer asked, child-like happiness in his eyes.

“Seriously” Matt hugged him gently, heading towards the place where he saw a henna tattoos stall the previous day. - “And then we can get something to eat before we have to head home.”

Andy nodded and brushed the annoying fringe away from his eyes, forgetting about the shitty mood he’d been in since morning for a moment . He always felt like that at the point of the comeback to everyday routine. He wanted to put it away as long as possible.

Coming home from Warped reminded him of coming back home from a summer camp, even though he wasn’t coming back to his parents’ house in Cincinnati anymore. Jake’s flat, the shabby mattress really wasn’t something he couldn’t wait to see.

For a week after breaking his ribs, he had the opportunity to sleep in Pitts’ bed, but only because the guitarist left for Warped with the rest of the band to meet the fans and assure them Andy was feeling good enough to complain all the time.

The last days of any trip were always the worst. He hated them. Except for the memorable school trip to the mountains when he came back home with a fever.

This time he was able to go straight to Matt’s apartment though and stay with him.

It was too small to fit them both in the long run and it was situated far from the city centre so, except for a cheap rent, it was basically useless.

And even though, it was still better than a mattress on the floor, even for just a few days.

*

_Blasphemy._

The word was going right across the inside of Andy’s left elbow, slightly convex, jet black. It looked awesome. Besides, it gave him a tiny bit of hope to put away the blood tests he was supposed to get done once the tour was over. Even if it was just a few more weeks. He wasn’t sure if having a henna tattoo exactly in the place where you would normally stick a needle into the skin didn’t impact the results somehow, obviously. He could always use this theory as an excuse to his parents.

The truth was that he had still another arm with no tattoos or paintings, but the nurses would always complain that he didn’t have any good veins in there, which put him in a “better” situation as for now.

It wasn’t that he was super scared of needles, he just didn’t want to see the results. Post traumatic stress disorder. Or something.

He glanced at the word again, smiling softly and letting Matt hug him. Good had the same tattoo, on the external side of his left forearm and promised to get it tattooed with ink once it began to disappear.

“And how is it?” the guitarist asked, interwining their fingers together.

“An interesting way to break the rules” Six laughed and turned towards Good so that he was now facing him, to bury his face in the guitarist’s chest.

The were sitting on a fallen tree on the verge of the festival grounds, away from the techicians running around packing the gear up.

A date?

It kinda was, actually.

“You can do this with every system somehow. Break the rules, I mean” Matt replied and placed Andy on his knees. - “Should we get something to eat?”

“Fast food?” Biersack suggested. It was the last day of tour, they could do it once.

“Fair enough” the guitarist rolled his eyes, waiting for Andy to get up. He had to catch the boy when he stumbled, though. - “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just seeing stars, as usual” Andy replied, looking at the ground. He forced himself to say it, even though he hated telling others he didn’t feel well. - “And now it feels like needles are stabbing me. It’ll pass” - he added, glancing at Matt.

The older man sat next to him, trying not to panic, as Andy seemed to feel good enough to get mad at him for it.

He wasn’t pale, which was a good sign, supposedly and his skin didn’t turn blue either. Maybe it was just the tiredness piled up, or at least the guitarist was trying to believe it.

Andy sighed heavily, waiting for the shiny, moving sparkles to disappear from sight and when that seemed to have happened, he got up and reached towards Matt to make him get up too.

The weird feeling of being stabbed with pins went away as soon as it appeared so he blamed it on hunger. He wasn’t planning to faint.

*

The landscape of an empty meadow, covered in stages, tents and buses back in the morning, a meadow and woods was disappearing more and more as the tourbus headed towards the main road.

Andy couldn’t believe everything was over. Warped Tour ended, just like that.

And now they had to get back to everyday routine. Back to being boring adults. For a month and a half he could pretend they all lived in a bubble between the teenage years and adulthood, where childishness wasn’t uncommon. From July 6th till the morning of August 15th.

The responsibilities and having to come back to that scared the shit out of him.

The amount of tasks he had to do.

“Fucking cunt…” Jake murmured, clearly mad at something, bringing Biersack back to Earth.

The singer glanced at the guitarist who seemed to be focused on reading something on his phone.

“Andy, you need to see this” Jake said, louder than previously. Six got up from Matt’s knees and sat next to Pitts on the sofa, glancing at the screen of his phone.

Twitter.

He could feel his stomach sinking.

He took a quick look at Ashley sitting on the opposite side of the bus, on the kitchen counter, drinking (what seemed to be his fourth) beer today, as if the intuition was trying to tell him that the bassist was up to something. Just to piss everyone off.

And then he glanced back at Jake’s phone before grabbing it.

He wasn’t wrong about the sinking feeling.

There was his ex boyfriend’s tweet on the screen, dating back to fifteen minutes ago, clearly stating that “Andy had a boyfriend and forgot to come out as gay. Besides, he had many secrets anyways.”

Followed by a row of emojis. A broken heart, a hospital building and an anatomic heart.

“I’ll fucking kill you” Andy jumped at the sound of Matt’s voice. He hadn’t noticed when the guitarist sat next to him and now he didn’t manage to catch him before the older man jumped at Ashley.

The bassist dropped the beer he was drinking. The can fell to the floor, put into motion by the sudden movement of the vehicle. The content poured all over the floor and Purdy ended up pinned to the wall by Good, who was almost eight inches taller.

“I’ve no idea how you’re gonna fix this, but you better do” - the guitarist added coldly, choking the bassist with one hand. The older man’s face went pale, despite his cynical smile.

“Why… would… I… try… to fix… the truth?” he choked out and laughed, making Matt tighten his grip.

Andy didn’t feel particularly sorry for Ashley, but at the same time he didn’t want to have to worry about having a body to bury.

“Let go of him” he said to Matt, handing the phone back to Jake. He wasn’t mad, he wasn’t even sad. He just felt like the opportunity and possibility to tell the fans about his boyfriend and health issues when he was ready, was ripped from him.

Everything was over now and he didn’t even want to check how big the fandom drama was. He could imagine the questions in the interviews that were yet to come. He even tried to come up with a statement he could fit into a hundred and forty characters to explain it all.

How many fans would accuse him of lying for attention? Cause, like, why didn’t he admit it all earlier?

He wasn’t one of the people who would post a selfie of them crying with an emotional caption. He didn’t fit into the bubble of suffering the society created.

Treating him differently now - as well - he was sure it would start. The promoters, other musicians and the fans themselves, finally. Would his condition make the label they barely got into, drop them?

People loved coming up with theories, about everything and Andy knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the avalanche of wrong conclusions that could possibly happen.

He was too tired to try and gather his thoughts, to come up with a statement now.

“Leave him alone, there’s no use” he repeated when Matt didn’t react, still pinning Ashley to the wall. - “He’s so stupid he’s only gonna get butthurt for it. Besides it’s not that much of a secret. People would’ve found out eventually” Andy knew he was fooling both himself and Matt, and he was aware of the consequences of coming out with their relationship, about the aggression people had towards him and boys in skinny jeans in general. - “Leave the idiot alone, I’ll take care of this all” he said and the guitarist finally let go of the bassist, but he punched him goodbye making the older man stumble, surprised, right into the counter. When he got back up, he was clearly bleeding.

Good smiled widely and punched him again, the hit accompanied with a cracking sound this time.

“Were this my fingers” he asked, suddenly turning ghostly pale.

“No, it was his nose” Jake laughed, glancing at Ashley who was now bleeding even more. - “Falling out of the bus round two, just like last year, darling. That’s how it ends when you’re acting like a fucktard” he added even more happily and sat back on the sofa.

“Everything okay?” Andy asked Matt, who was still looking at his hand. It didn’t look bad though, so it probably wasn’t anything to worry about, but Biersack was still concerned. Both bands had a show coming up in a few days in Los Angeles.

“I think so…” the guitarist replied, seeming as if he just woke up from some kind of trance and forced a smile. It definitely wasn’t okay, he wanted to cut that piece of trash into pieces, burn him and bury somewhere. Alternatively, serve it for dinner for the owner of the label that kicked From First To Last out. It was the evening anyways.

He didn’t get a chance to consider any of the options deeper though, as Andy grabbed his hand, dragging him to the back of the bus.

“And what happens now?” the guitarist asked when they both sat on a blanket in Andy’s bunk.

“Now there’s going to be a drama” Biersack replied and switched the wall lamp on. - “And then I’ll have to make a statement. Or ignore it. No one can rule out the possibility that Ashley was just drunk and started tweeting shit” - he smiled widely, but it was a fake smile.

Matt sighed heavily. The situation was bad, no matter what Andy would decide to do.

“Knowing you, you’re gonna post something sarcastic. And it’s not a good move right now” he said.

True, it wasn’t a good move, Andy had to admit. He didn’t want to end up being accused of any sort of lack of empathy towards anyone. Besides, if his statement sounded like a joke, he wouldn’t be taken seriously which didn’t sort things out either.

“I hate being serious” he groaned finally, resting his chin on Matt’s shoulder. - “It’s always possible to ignore this. If no one’s gonna notice there’s something wrong with me, things will be fine.”

“Right…” Good admitted, surprised that Andy was mostly concerned about himself in this situation. Their relationship was about to be outed and this was the main issue in that tweet. No one would even realize at first glance what the emojis meant.

The younger boy’s egoistical attitude somehow hurt him…?

Or maybe… Fine, Andy had a right to panic, especially that he still didn’t feel ready to tell anyone whether or not he had an illness, but the guitarist couldn’t understand how the singer could just ignore the statement clearly stating that he had a boyfriend.

Ironically, the tweet basically confirmed the andley rumors.

Unless Biersack missed his ex and wanted to get back to him, that’s why he didn’t care about these words?

But that seemed ridiculous. He wouldn’t run away from the bassist if he still had any positive feelings for him.

On the other hand though, why did he tell Matt to leave Ashley alone?

Maybe he still had hopes for that past relationship?

Good glanced at Biersack clinging to his shoulder, occupied with scrolling through Twitter. It seemed like he was trying to find the drama that didn’t exist. Yet.

“So when are we gonna come out to everyone?” Matt asked, straight out to see the younger boy’s reaction to his words.

Andy glanced at him in surprise.

“Whenever you want” he replied. - “Besides, Ashley’s already done it for us. We can tell everyone even just now, why not. We have a few days off, then this show…” - he added, placing his phone on the blanket.

“I think we should wait until after the show… I don’t want anything to happen to you” Matt said, suddenly concerned. - “We can come out then, there’s a month until the next tour anyways, so just in case, the haters will calm down a bit by then.”

Andy nodded, the guitarist was right. Not that he was scared about his safety or anything, but they would have to deal with the press asking them about every detail of the relationship right after the show, if they came out before that. And with the fans, fanfiction writers as well. The latter would definitely be on cloud nine, knowing their favourite ship turned out to be true.

And with the haters. It was impossible to avoid them, no matter how much they wanted.

*

Every house, apartment had its own smell. Andy’s parents’ house in Cincinnati smelled like a construction site, an empty, not yet inhabitated building. Jake’s apartment? It smelled like pizza and shower gel. Matt’s tiny flat? Like a new building mixed with a barely noticeable smell of mint and cigarettes.

They arrived in Los Angeles an hour and a half ago, but it took the remaining time until now to get through the traffic. As usual.

“Should we get a takeaway? Cause I’m pretty sure my fridge is empty and I swear I’m not coming back into that traffic” Matt said. It was almost noon and they were planning to go to sleep as soon as they could, instead of trying to make it through the day until the evening. The McDonalds they stopped in a few hours ago was just a thing of the past right now and both of them were starving.

“Ramen?” Biersack suggested, hanging the leather jacket he was wearing, on the wall. He’d already told Jake he wasn’t coming back to his place today, but he’d probably pop in in a few days to get his stuff, when him and Matt find a new place.

They completely ignored Ashley’s tweet and the drama died down overnight. The only remainings were a few screenshots from the Warped shows where Andy was apparently clinging to the bassist.

“Fine, but I’ll give you my seaweed. How the fuck can people eat this thing? It’s disgusting” Good replied and pulled the phone out of his pocket to find a nearby place that delivered.

“Is there anything else you’ll give me?” Biersack walked up to the guitarist, hugging him from backwards, hungry for cuddles like he’d never been before.

“My virginity” Matt murmured, tossing Andy’s hair with his free hand. He said it without thinking, busy trying scrolling through the search results.

“Make sure to wrap it nicely” Andy kissed his cheek and went to take a shower, the first proper shower since Warped started two months ago.

He glanced at the bruises that started to disappear from his side where he had hit the wall at the show back in June.

He got the impression that he’d lost some weight during Warped Tour, but maybe it was just a bias from wearing bandages for the past few weeks and not having a decent mirror.

He couldn’t wait to get the hairspray and glue out of his hair.

He looked at his reflection once again and stepped into the shower, letting the water untangle the streaks of his hair.

He surprisingly noticed that he actually wished Matt was with him here in the shower. He was wondering if he was actually able to get close enough to the guitarist to make out with him a little in the shower.

And - what if the older man wanted something more?

 _Virginity_ , Andy remembered. _He’d give him his virginity._

Matt definitely wanted sex then, didn’t he?

Andy was trying to keep the man by his side as hard as possible, so… he supposed he had to offer him the pleasure.

Biersack took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare himself to confront this situation.

If things were supposed to be like that, he wanted the sex part to be done and over as soon as possible, even though he couldn’t imagine them two making love. He didn’t want it.

He had to, though, if he wanted his relationship with the guitarist to last.

It was only a matter of time before the older man would find someone on the side, one night stands to satisfy his needs. Andy couldn’t take that.

He sighed heavily and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist.

The thought of having sex pushed him away instantly and he wanted to run away as soon as possible, but he had no choice if it was actually expected of him.

What if back then, in July, Matt said Andy’s asexuality wasn’t a problem in their relationship only because he didn’t want Biersack to feel bad?

He was overthinking a lot and couldn’t stop it now.

So he put on a pair of black sweatpants and a Twisted Sister t-shirt before coming out of the bathroom to find his boyfriend.

He found the man in the bedroom, guitar in his hands, lying on bed with a notebook placed on next to him, opened on a page partly covered with a sequency of guitar chords.

“Hi Hermione” Andy said. The white instrument with a red and gold tie wrapped around its neck, was basically sacred in this house. The tie dated back to one of From First To Last shows when Good came on stage wearing a Hogwarts uniform.

“Hermione says hi too” Matt replied, placing the guitar on the bed and getting up. - “I’ll go take a shower, the food should be here in a second, can you pick it up?” - he asked.

Andy nodded in response and glanced at the older man as he disappeared in the hall.

The singer laid down on the bed, noticing how comfortable its double frame was.

Perfect for what was waiting for him.

Andy sighed deeply, remembering the memories of the now past summer.

Wandering around, on the fields with Matt at every Warped stop, their dates, plans of living together, even in a house, the last one jokingly.

All of this only for things to turn out like they always did. And he had to adapt to that, he was the faulty one, he didn’t want sex, even if it was a normal human need.

He blinked several times to shove the unwanted tears and hate towards the guitarist for being like the others, away. Andy was stupid enough to hope for a movie-like romance.

It terrified him. Sex. He didn’t want it.

The singer pressed hands to his face, breathing deeply, trying not to cry and attempted to make himself believe things were actually the opposite and he couldn’t wait for it.

The door bell brought him back to the sad reality.

Andy got up and made his way to the hall to pick the ramen up from the deliverer.

He brought the bags to the kitchen, where he waited for Matt, struggling to keep his sanity.

“Are you okay?” the guitarist asked as he walked in, because Andy didn’t seem himself. But maybe he was just tired.

Biersack nodded and grabbed the boxes to keep his hands occupied.

“Actually I think we can eat in the living room” Matt said, there was more space in there.

“Yeah, we could…” Andy agreed and grabbed the ramen boxes from the table, heading towards the room, tense like he’d never been before.

He sat on the beige sofa, waiting for the guitarist and when the older man appeared, he just cuddled onto him and kissed his cheek. He had no idea how to arrange the foreplay, to suggest they did _t h a t._ He’d never done it before, how was he supposed to initiate things?

He didn’t manage to start anything until they were done eating and once they were, he just sat on Matt’s lap and placed his hands on the man’s chest.

“You really missed me that much? We only haven’t seen each other for like half an hour” the guitarist laughed, wrapping his arm around Six’s waist, hoping not to scare him away.

Because, in general, Andy wasn’t a touchy-feely person, really not into non stop cuddling. He liked to hug sometimes, yeah, and it was hard to pull him away then, but most of the time their relationship seemed more like friendship in the physical part.

And now?

It wasn’t typical of Biersack to behave like that.

“Yeah, I might’ve missed you” the singer admitted and kissed Matt with quite an excessive passion, placing his hands on the guitarist’s cheeks. - “Is that not allowed?”

Good chuckled and after a moment of hesitation switched positions so that now Andy was lying on his back underneath him.

He kissed Biersack’s lips and moved downwards from there, to the boy’s neck, accompanied by his nervous giggling. It concerned the guitarist slightly, but it might’ve just been Andy’s reaction.

“Everything okay?” he asked when Six got rid of his t-shirt, so he could trace down the scar on his chest and lower, the thin line of light blonde hair on his stomach down to the sweatpants, with kisses. They were just moments away from… sex? Was that what Andy wanted?

The singer didn’t respond so Matt glanced at his face, stopping to caress the boy. Biersack had tears in his eyes and was visibly shaking.

“Andy…?” Matt asked again and moved away. Biersack instantenously sat up and pulled knees to his chest. - Jesus - the guitarist said terrified and backed away from the boy, hiding his face in his hands. - Fuck, fuck, fuck - he said repeatedly, realizing what just happened. Or maybe what was about to happen. - “Jesus, Andy, I’m so sorry” - he moved away even further, finding the singer’s t-shirt thrown somewhere on the sofa’s backrest. Biersack grabbed it nervously and tugged it on. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t choke out a word, only mouthing repetitive apologies.

It wasn’t supposed to be like that. Not like that.

It was supposed to be okay. To feel good.

And Six fucked it up, he was a coward. He was certain about it.

“For fuck’s sake, Andy” Matt said quietly, even though he didn’t want to say it at all. - “I’ve almost fucking raped you.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note about the henna tattoos. It's a really typical thing in the seaside villages in my home country to get summer tattoos painted with henna, various patterns, flowers, mythical creatures, quotes, animals etc. It's more popular among kids and teens, but it's there. Just to give you a bit of a context why Matt and Andy got the henna tattoos. It's only because Andy can't get ink ones here as they could cause an infection and stuff.


	9. Note to self: I miss you terribly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: eating disorders and mentions of suicide

“For fuck’s sake, Andy. I’ve almost fucking raped you.”

No words have ever hurt this much.

It wasn’t supposed to end this way. And it definitely wasn’t Matt’s fault.

If anyone was to blame, it was only Andy. For it all and because the guitarist felt guilty.

Biersack surely ruined their relationship. He wanted to cry in that moment.

Funny how it took only a moment to destroy the relationship they worked on for so long. Accidentally.

“Don’t say that” Six said quietly, grabbing Matt’s hand, hoping the older man would look at him. His heart ached just from seeing the terrible pangs of conscience of the older man, the improper pangs of conscience, because he didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing at all.

“But it’s true” Good whined, barely audibly and moved away.

“It’s not” Andy said in denial and forced Matt to look at him, placing his hands on the guitarist’s cheeks. - “Listen to me. It’s not your fault, nothing of what happened. The only person to blame is me” - he stopped for a moment to take a deep breath before finishing the sentence. He wasn’t sure which words to choose, he didn’t want Matt to hate him completely. But he couldn’t rule this possibility out.

“Don’t blame yourself” the guitarist interrupted, certain that the boy just wanted to carry the can like a victim, like… like…

“But it’s true” Andy sighed deeply. - “I thought I wanted it. To see what it’s like. Experience it. But then I realized I didn’t. And it’s all my fault because I started it all. But listen to me, we stopped before anything could happen. It’s all good. Matt, please” - he added, because the older man looked like he was about to faint. - “It’s okay. Really. You’ve not hurt me.”

Andy hoped that his discourse would mellow the situation just a little. And it seemed like he succeeded. Just a little bit.

But not fully.

“Then why did you react like this? Then?” the guitarist asked, clearly scared of the answer.

 _Cause I thought you’re like all the others and it was all you cared about_ , Andy thought, but he said out loud:

“Impulsively. And we’re tired as fuck, so that’s probably why as well.”

He hated to lie, simply because Matt always found out.

“And the real reason why?” he asked.

Andy took a deep breath.

He was sure Good would hate him for this.

“I thought I had to give myself to you to keep you by my side. And it fucked me up inside” he said and regretted his words instantly, because the guitarist backed away even more and whined in despair.

“For fuck’s sake…” he said, to himself, it seemed, burying his face in his hands, shaking. Crying.

He let him down, he let Andy down, he broke the promise he made at Warped, that he’d respect the man’s boundaries and wouldn’t force things. But he did it, subconsciously. And now he had to pay for it.

He had no right to touch the boy.

“It’s because I made something up, I guess” Andy said, trying to save the situation. - “Matt, please, believe me, I don’t blame you for anything. You didn’t do anything wrong. I love you” - these words, the last ones, seemed to work like a spell, because the guitarist looked up as if in disbelief.

Andy had never said anything like that before.

Biersack made use of the moment and sat closer, grabbing Matt’s hand slowly.

“Let’s start over again. From the beginning. Please” he said, leaning his head against the guitarist’s shoulder.

The older man didn’t push him away.

*

It seemed like things were back to normal, at least for the most part. Matt still was afraid to touch Andy, even hug him, so as not to hurt him, but they were slowly becoming closer and closer again, more and more everyday.

“Biersack, what should I get you?” Ashley asked, knowing Six hadn’t drank alcohol for a good while now.

“Just water” Andy shrugged, taking his crochet gloves off. His grandma made these for him lately, wanting to take care of her rebellious grandson.

“Seriously? Just water? You know, if you don’t like Seagram’s, I can get you something else. Red wine is apparently good for blood circulation” the bassist laughed, hoping to trigger the younger man, but effortlessly, he just flipped him off. - “And?”

“You get wine yourself, the risk of a cardiac arrest is higher once you hit thirty” Andy grinned and sat next to Matt. He wanted to get on his lap, but they were around people that didn’t yet known they were dating.

That aside, they were still looking for a place to rent.

Actually, to get things between them settled, they gave it up for a couple of days. Andy had even considered coming back to Jake’s for a while, maybe just a couple of weeks, but he didn’t in the end.

They were supposed to see the first of all the places they considered, the next morning.

*

A multistorey, modernistic-wannabe building, coated with gold plate on the outside looked really good. It was close to the city centre as well, which was its biggest advantage.

They were going to move in up there, sixth floor, this evening.

Andy couldn’t wait.

His and Matt’s relationship was blooming, more and more everyday. They spent the past week looking for the perfect place, but nothing seemed good enough. Until they found this building. It didn’t resemble of the first place they considered at slightest, the one where ivy grew on the walls, but it turned out to be a lot better.

And now?

They were drowning in boxes full of stuff they had to move from both old apartments since yesterday. Contrary to appearances, Andy had more clothes than he thought.

Luckily, his falling-apart-chevrolet was quite capacious, so he only had to come back to Jake’s twice to get everything he owned.

He threw a tote bag full of comic books on his shoulder and made his way towards the entrance.

A spacious staircase still made a great impression on Andy, the walls and floor made of stone, even though he had seen it more than ten times today already.

Just like the old elevator that scared the living shit out of him, so he avoided it at all cost.

Too bad Matt said he wouldn’t make him spaghetti if he saw the boy panting after climbing six floors upstairs again.

Biersack pressed the right button and jumped at the sound of the elevator approaching.

The lift only resembled him of the one that used to go down to the operation theatre, illuminated with a joyful shade of blue light. Another thing he didn’t want to remember.

He sighed heavily and hesitantly stepped inside, sliding the door behind him, jumping again when the lock clicked.

He fixed the bag on his shoulder and pressed the button with the floor number before leaning his back against the wall, staring at the flashing lightbulb on the ceiling, counting down the endless seconds until the lift stopped.

Fifteen.

He slided the door and stepped outside, to the shabby corridor, on the bare terrazzo floor. In his own personal opinion, he thought that a concrete floor would fit the concrete walls better, but what could he do about it? Nothing.

He passed by the goldish blinds serving as a glassless window and made his way towards the right door.

He put the key in and walked inside, throwing the bag on the floor, before looking for Matt in the appartment. Given that he was here at all, as he had mentioned he had to come back to his old place to get the guitars and some equipment from the studio. That stuff had a proper name, but Andy couldn’t remember it. Music production definitely wasn’t his thing. Sure, he knew the basics, but nothing more. He preferred to just sing and draw, the creative side of it all, to the technical one. Matt was the opposite, they completed each other.

He didn’t find the guitarist in the small hall, where the flat went into three different directions, so he made his way towards their new, still empty, bedroom.

In the middle of the room, there was a bare mattress on the floor. By the wall, in the corner, there were pieces of the bed, still in boxes, waiting to be put together. Aside that, the room was filled with bags, boxes and wires. Lamps, a Hi-Fi, two amplifiers with cords wrapped around them. A rolled carpet and a canvas with Batman who seemed to be a Misfits fan, in the corner, behind the door. Andy painted it last year and didn’t want the artwork to waste. Of course, he never said it out loud and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to oppose if there was a plan to throw the painting out or put it somewhere in the attic.

There was no sign of the guitarist in the bedroom either.

Andy sighed and, daunted by the effortless search, just sat at the mattress.

“Matt?” he called into the space of the empty rooms.

And there was silence.

The singer lied down on the mattress, burying his face into a Batman blanket placed next to him. The same one that Good got him for Christmas, the same one he always had on tour.

He started wondering if there was anything to do in the house before the older man came back, but he couldn’t really think of anything.

Without the furniture, there was nowhere to place their stuff. He already got everything he needed from Jake’s place too. And he asked him not to give Ashley’s their new address. He didn’t trust the bassit, he didn’t want him in here. And he didn’t want him to hurt Matt either.

Andy closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the languorous afternoon and it seemed like he drifted off, because a sound of twisting the key in the door woke him up. After that, there was a loud noise of placing an acoustic guitar on the floor, not quite subtly to be fair.

He sat up and stretched, still drowsy, trying to place himself in the spacetime somehow, but it took a while before he realized it was the beginning of September 2011.

He looked outside the window at the clouded sky and got up, stopping for a second when the world danced in front of his eyes. Well.

He headed towards the hall, where he finally found Matt, four guitars and something that looked like a console of a sound technician at the shows.

“How long have you been here?” the guitarist asked, walking up to Andy and kissing his forehead, making the boy blush.

“To be honest, I’ve no idea. What’s the time?” Biersack asked, still sleepy and ran his fingers through his hair. - “The new mattress is too comfy.”

“You were asleep? Aww, cute” Matt said, smiling softly and grabbed his phone. - “It’s four in the afternoon. Did you get everything from Jake’s?”

Andy nodded, answering both questions and hugged Matt who seemed to have stopped being scared to touch him.

“And you?” Six asked, glancing at the guitars behind the older man.

“Same. And I gave the keys back to the owner” Good said, wrapping his arm around Biersack’s waist. - “Should we go to Ikea?”

“Yeah, but we’re taking the stairs” Andy insisted before rushing to the door, as if he wanted to stop Matt from heading towards the lift.

The concrete staircase seemed endless, but at least there was a light that didn’t flash.

They got into the guitarist’s car, where Biersack opened the glove compartment, where the CD’s were. He hoped to find something that wasn’t Nirvana, which they listened to last time, getting here. Although Andy had a deep respect for the band, Cobain’s whining and the same three riffs became annoying after an hour of being stuck in a traffic jam. There was no message in the music too, except for if it was supposed to be the “I’ve gone mad sksksksksks”. He had enough.

He dug through the albums of Linkin Park, The Prodigy, From First To Last, Underoath and Good Charlotte before finding Tokio Hotel and grinning.

“Oh no. No” Matt sighed, when Andy handed him “Schrei” with an innocent look on his face. - “Have mercy.”

“Why?” Six chuckled but looked for something else in the compartment next to the gear stick. - “How about The Cure?”

The guitarist nodded, so Biersack placed the CD in the player, in the only free space. Normally, the car could fit six albums at once in there, but five were already in. Three of them - definitely Nirvana, but the other two?

Andy rested his arm on the car door, sticking his hand outside, as they drove towards the highway, faster and faster.

“A Forest” suited the hot, moisty and cloudy afternoon perfectly. Somewhere in the distance, they could hear a thunder, a lightning cut the sky. Biersack was sure they would have to come back in a downpour.

He glanced at Matt, who was holding the wheel with one hand only, a cigarette between his fingers of the other one.

And he was supposed to quit smoking.

The guitarist was beautiful, no one had ever made the younger boy feel like this.

Andy couldn’t believe his luck. It was absurd that he got to form a band, get to the top and now he had the best boyfriend he could ever dream of.

And it didn’t seem like he was going to feel encaged in this relationship.

“Would you like to go on a date somewhere if it doesn’t take us long in Ikea?” the singer asked.

Even though the Pumpkin Spice Latte hadn’t yet appeared in Starbucks offer, he wanted to go out somewhere to celebrate their small victory.

“Last time I checked you were bottom in this relationship” Matt laughed, glancing at Andy, making the boy’s knees go weak. The guitarist had beautiful eyes, a shade of deep blue in which Andy could easily drown.

“Then pay attention to the road instead of thinking” Biersack replied, blushing and buried his face in his hands.

Matt chuckled and, using Six’s lack of attention, changed the album.

This one wasn’t a gem, just a mix of the greatest hits, but there was one good song on it.

_Insomnia._

Faithless.

It sounded like 1996.

This was the year where the original album of that band came out, but Andy remembered the song from long trips to Boston and back. In Chris’s car, on the way to the airport and back, at the weirdest times of day.

For most part, back when he was five years old.

The lift illuminated with blue light, colorful curtains decorated with a motive of animals in zoo. Plastic tubes, metal nippers. A bed that he seemed to be too tall for, because when he stretched (and it wasn’t his natural position to lie down, usually he would sleep on the side, curled up), he could feel the metal bars belonging to the footboard.

A tiny corridor.

The Flinston’s Barney toy figure.

He couldn’t remember much.

Only a glass cabinet and a sink, a sunny day.

And a headache.

Then, as the years passed, he was only able to compare this feeling to being hungover. And the hangover only compared to migraine.

“Are you okay?” Matt’s voice brought him back to reality. - “I think you stopped breathing,.”

“I think I have PTSD” Andy sighed in an answer, rubbing his face with his fingers. - “Nevermind. You were supposed to quit smoking” he added, trying to force a smile.

Did the memories really make him feel heavy-hearted? They didn’t bring much emotion, only that he didn’t want to go through it all again. Fully aware of what was happening. He didn’t have that state of consciousness as a child.

_Insomnia, Insomnia, Insomnia._

He reached towards the radio and changed the song to a random station, maybe just flouncing too much, but he wanted the memories away.

Or maybe he made it all up?

*

“Okay, which way do we go now?” Matt asked, when they passed by the same bathroom exhibition for the third time.

They got lost in Ikea. Typical.

“That one, apparently” Andy pointed towards the left, where, if what the sign on the ceiling was true, the part of the shop they had not yet visited was supposed to be, as well as the cash desks.

They got almost everything so far, except candles, cacti and storage boxes.

The content of the trolley was shaking dangerously when passing by old ladies, but, thankfully, it hadn’t yet collapsed.

“Let’s hope you’re not wrong” the guitarist sighed, making his way in the aforementioned direction, so Biersack just followed him. He wasn’t wrong, luckily, and ten minutes later they got the boxes and plants.

Andy grabbed a couple of small succulents growing in colorful pots and squeezed them in at the front of the trolley, where there was still some space left.

They got a bigger cactus as well, before heading to the cash desk, but he had to carry this one, as it didn’t fit into the trolley.

“So is the date still on?” Biersack asked when they stood in the long line leading to one of the desks and hugged the big cactus pot, as it started to slide out his hands. It was all the heat’s fault, even though the store had air conditioning. The temperature outside, half an hour ago, was impossible to endure. And still, it was cloudy.

Andy fixed the strap of the cut, ripped v-neck he was wearing. It was the first one he grabbed, not wanting to struggle to get some clothes from the bottom of the bag in the morning. The top hung loosely on him, blame it on the weightloss during Warped Tour.

“Iced chocolate? Takeaway? And then the most romantic part aka putting the bed together? Sounds like a plan” Matt laughed, stopping himself from kissing Six in the cheek. They still were around people.

“I can’t wait” Andy fixed the cactus in his arms and blew a streak of hair away from his face.

He had no idea how to put beds together.

*

Instead of Starbucks, they decided to choose a small no-brand coffeeshop.

It was cozy and did takeaway, which was a salvation, given the crowd inside. No wonder though, it started raining outside. Thunders could be heard from time to time too, which definitely wasn’t an encouragement to stay outside.

Unless?

“Andy! Andy, Andy, Andy, can I get a picture with you! Oh my God, Matt!” Biersack turned around, almost bumping into two teenage girls with their hair dyed, who just ran up to them. One of the two hugged him without a warning, almost tripping him over, the other one did the same to the guitarist. And then they switched, before any of the guys could protest.

“You’re my biggest idol. I can’t believe I met you. Just like that, on the street. It feels like a dream” the other girl said, shakingly handing Andy “We Stitch These Wounds” to sign.

He took a sharpie from the teenager and autographed the CD before giving it back to the girl with a smile and loosely wrapping his arm around her to take a picture.

She wasn’t tall, barely reached his chest and he didn’t lean down enough.

He didn’t pay attention to it, not yet, the girls said goodbye and him and Matt headed towards the parking lot where they had left the car.

“Can we set the bed up tomorrow? The shopping was literally too tiring” Andy said as they drove down the street.

“I was about to say the same” Matt laughed and put the music on, revealing the secret of the sixth album in the player.

_Set The World On Fire._

It was high time, as Biersack started wondering where the two Black Veil albums that Good surely had, went.

He opened the car window slightly, letting the noise of the rushing air inside.

It fit the music and the album’s vibe.

“Kneel and pray for closure, baby” he chuckled, remembering his iconic performance in Daily Habit.

“If I kneel, will you help set the bed up?” Matt asked, tossing Andy’s hair without looking at him. - “You’re cute, love.”

Biersack smiled widely and grabbed his phone to tweet if anyone remembered that show.

He was slightly surprised at the sight of a hashtag wishing him to get well soon as he logged in.

He raised an eyebrow and clicked on it, wondering what the fans were on about this time.

Maybe they just meant his ribs, even if it didn’t make much sense, because the accident happened almost three months ago.

He scrolled down the tweets wishing him all the best but he couldn’t find an answer.

Not yet.

Because then he found the photo with fans, taken nearly half an hour ago, definitely posted in good faith.

There was a thread of replies below.

_Where is the scar from?_

_Did he have to get a surgery because of the ribs?_

_Do you guys remember what Ashley’s tweeted recently?_

_You know how much he used to smoke, maybe it’s something to do with the lungs? I hope not…_

_He’s so fucking emo he got himself cut, faggot._

_My cousin is a doctor and says that if you puncture a lung, you have to get a surgery. Poor dude. It’s probably because of the ribs._

_Remember how sick he looked at that show at Warped in July? How tired he was? Maybe he’s ill?_

_The emo whore is seeking attention again_

_He couldn’t sing so maybe he got his voice fixed. Finally. Now he’s gonna look like an eyesore. Good luck trying to find a girlfriend…_

_Get well soon, Andy, your fans love you <3_

Andy sighed deeply, not knowing what to think about it all. Surprisingly, he wasn’t panicking because of the situation.

He didn’t feel like giving an explanation to everybody but at the same time he knew the fandom wouldn’t let go of it until it found out, so he would have to post a statement, sooner or later.

“Can you pull off for a second?” he asked Matt, seeing Jon’s number flashing on his phone screen.

Good got off the highway at the nearest exit and stopped the car at the side of an abandoned road going into the desert.

Biersack answered the call, expecting the manager to yell, but nothing like that happened.

“Check your Twitter” Jon said, calmly, not like he normally used to.

“I did” Andy replied, trying to endure Matt’s surpised look. The older man pulled his phone from his pocket and opened Twitter too, a few seconds later scrolling through the drama with a look of disapproval on his face.

“Any ideas to sort this out? I know it was an accident, but it’s a delicate matter. Magazines keep calling me about it, some have already posted the news about a mysterious illness you’re apparently suffering from. One way or another, you will have to do an interview, the label will want it. The question is: are you giving a fuck now and posting a statement or not?” Jon asked, still calmly, unlike he usually was.

“I’ll tweet that I’m fine” Andy sighed heavily. - “Can you please arrange an interview with the most known magazine of all of those that are going to harrass you until tomorrow morning? I’m just gonna tell them what I’ll post on Twitter, but in more detail, they’re gonna ask anyways - he added, leaning against the seat and nervously playing with a thread of beads hanging down the rear view mirror.

“Fair” the manager said. - “I’ll let you know.”

Andy mumbled some words of approval and hung up.

“For fuck’s sake” he groaned, glancing at the innocent photo once again.

Him, Matt and two fangirls, in front of the coffeeshop, photographed by a random passerby.

One of the girls, the shorter one, barely reached Andy’s chest. Meaning a piece of pale skin at the breastbone was uncovered, where the fabric of the top was ripped and revealed a bit of a white scar, visible at first sight.

“And now what?” Matt asked, grabbing Andy’s hand and ignoring a car that passed them by at high speed.

“I’ll tell the fans, they deserve some explanation” Biersack said and leaned forward to kiss Matt. - “We can come out too, it’s gonna happen anyways and I don’t want things to end up the same way” - he added, sitting back.

“Do you think so?” the guitarist asked. Andy was right, he had to admit. - “Fine. Let it all crash and burn.”

Six nodded and tucked a streak of hair behind his ear, opening the notepad in his phone to try and write a short, but meaningful statement.

Matt drove back to the highway and just let “Set The World On Fire” play until the end, as loud as possible.

Biersack glanced at the landscape outside the window, a city visible in the distance, before he started to write.

And then he realized big words were inappropriate.

It wasn’t how he had planned to sort things out. To reveal it all.

He closed the app and opened Twitter, smiling lightly.

 _I’ve got half a heart and I can still run faster than y’all do_ \- he tweeted.

It didn’t take the fans long to react, just a few seconds later his notifications flooded with likes and replies.

 _There’s something else_ \- he added and opened the phone gallery to find the cutest photo with Matt he had.

It took a while but he finally got one that they had taken long ago. It seemed like last year.

Or more like: That Jon took for them.

They were sat on one of those big cases for equipment storage, which wasn’t visible in the photo. There was Black Veil Brides banner behind them and Andy remembered he wanted to turn Matt into one of the “BVB Army emos”, so he put his rosary and hat with “Sixx” written at the front, on the guitarist.

He loved this photo.

So he added it to the tweet and tried to come up with a caption.

 _Blasphemers. Or: your two favorite emo fags. As you prefer. Meet my boyfriend_ \- he typed and tagged Matt.

Then he posted the tweet.

*

Andy fixed his teased hair in the rear mirror before getting out of the car. The interview Jon had arranged, was supposed to take place in the headquarters of the magazine, filmed and posted to their website. Because of that Biersack got a black crewneck from the bottom of the closet (the furniture was already put together, they had spent the past two days doing it). The t-shirt had the sleeves cut off and he knew hiding the scar would irritate the journalist, Kate or something, who looked like a typical nosy bitch in the photo he was able to find. He harrassed Jon until he found some information about the woman, but he wanted to know the enemy.

She was blonde, seemed of average height, her hair shoulder-length. There was one orange streak in it, but nevertheless, she didn’t look trustworthy at all. Maybe it was all about her outfit, a two-piece dress she was wearing in her LinkedIn profile picture. Or maybe he could just sense people’s personality.

“You’re gonna shit yourself, Kate” he mumbled to himself and walked inside the modern building.

He found himself in a spacious hall. One of its ends led towards lifts and stairs, if the signs were credible, the rest of the room was arranged as a winter garden. The owner must have loved plants. They might have even been slightly obsessed with gardening.

Between the palms, there were sofas and wooden chairs, a couple of coffee tables covered in archive releases of the magazines and adverts.

Andy sighed, regretting Jon wasn’t here with him. Normally, he would’ve come, to protect the singer from getting kidnapped by some fans, but he wasn’t able to today. He claimed his wife made mayhem at home when she found out he had an affair with that manager back at Warped. Andy wasn’t surprised she did but there was some kind of an unwritten agreement between the band and Jonathan, that neither got into each other’s love matters.

Biersack walked up to the reception desk and leaned his hands against it, trying to look confident. That’s who he was supposed to play, even though he really wanted to run away from there.

The impression that everyone was staring at him because he looked different than others in the room didn’t want to go away. In addition, all of them probably knew by now that he had a boyfriend, which must have seemed messed up to them. At least that’s what he concluded from the manner of the room decoration.

But it was the most prestigious magazine, focused on the legends of rock (too bad he didn’t meet any of them anywhere), so Andy couldn’t just refuse.

“How can I help you, sir?” the receptionist asked, glancing at him.

“Apparently I’m supposed to do an interview in a moment. At least according to my manager” Andy replied, wanting to run away from here. He had wanted to give the journalist’s name and the time to the woman, but the stress made him forget to mention those.

The receptionist kept staring at him without blinking, at his tangled hair with feathers braided between the streaks, dark eyeshadow and a ripped t-shirt. He didn’t fit into her world, definitely not. To the world of a perfect hairstyle, ironed shirts and dresses, straight from the most expensive fashion designers, ten times more impressive than Gucci, that her boss sponsored to the whole staff. To the world of having two kids, studying all day, everyday, to get accepted to Stanford or Harvard, maybe Yale.

He didn’t belong there.

“Can you give me the name?” she asked, fixing the rectangular frame of her glasses.

“Mine, my manager’s or hers?” Andy nervously clenched his fingers at the light wood of the desk. He couldn’t cope in situations like this. Jon usually took care of that. What did he use to say? He yelled at people. But what did he yell?

“Yours, sir” the woman seemed irritated, he surely was wasting her time. And considering his looks, he just pretended to be a rockstar.

“Biersack” Six replied, praying to be able to walk away as soon as possible. - “Andy.”

“Andrew Dennis?” the receptionist glanced at him after a moment of looking for something in the files, which she seemed to have found.

The boy nodded and brushed his hair away from his face. He hated his full name, it didn’t suit him. The short form could do somehow, but he only liked it when Matt used it.

“Sixth floor, studio 132” the receptionist said and placed a badge on a leash on the counter. Andy could see his name written on it, signed as “Black Veil Brides, interview, Kate Kowalski”. - The lift isn’t working.

Biersack nodded, thanked the woman, but honestly, he wasn’t sure if he did and made his way towards the stairs, putting the badge on.

He ran up the first four floors, even though his knees were begging for mercy.

He made sure there was no one behind him and took a few deep breaths before climbing up the last two floors. Up there, he leaned against the staircase wall to catch his breath. The world was shaking a bit and he didn’t want to look as if he just ran a marathon.

A few minutes later he managed to calm his breath, so he grabbed the door handle and walked into the corridor.

The soft carpet drowned out the sound of his steps, as he passed by different doors, trying to find the right room, more and more stressed if he should just walk in. He hoped someone was waiting for him in front of the door, but at the same time he prayed he wouldn’t meet any other star, because he was hopeless when it came to human interaction with people he didn’t know.

He finally found himself at the end of the corridor. There was only one door in there, with the number 132 on the wall.

There was Kate, the journalist, as well, wearing an unbuttoned polo t-shirt and jeans, sitting on one of the chairs mounted on the wall.

“Hi” he said, because she hadn’t noticed him yet.

*

The matte powder they seemed to use on everyone made his face itch, but he didn’t manage to run away from the makeup artist and now he had to suffer.

He was sat in an uncomfortable chair, six feet away from Kate, in front of the cameras, waiting for her to begin.

He tried to prepare some answers and hoped he wouldn’t stutter.

“In June your band released the second studio album, _Set The World On Fire_ ” Kate spoke. - “Can you explain what inspired the story behind the record?”

Andy sighed deeply, knowing it was just the beginning and this wasn’t what the meeting was about.

But he gathered his thoughts and started:

“It’s a concept album to some extent. You know, there’s a group of people who don’t belong anywhere. They want to change the world so that all the other ones who don’t fit anywhere either and can’t find the courage to show up, could find their own place.”

Kowalski didn’t seem particularly satisfied with his answer.

“In the past you have mentioned you’re not religious. Why did you decide to make a reference to the fallen angels?” she asked.

Andy stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He got asked this question a thousand times, he was used to it.

“I grew up in a catholic family, that’s true” he admitted. - “The faith simply didn’t speak to me. I couldn’t make sense of it. In the religion I was taught about, there were many examples of imprecision. When I tried to undermine their credibility, I usually ended up silenced. Or kicked out. Those people had their own formulary of faith that no one could question. That’s why I don’t like religion, I don’t get it. But you have to know your enemy well, so I’m interested in it. The fallen angels? Last year people thought we were vampires, cause everyone was obsessed with “Twilight”, so we just followed the trend” - he grinned.

“It seems like you really took that concept personally” she laughed. - “I mean your performance in Hollywood back in June, a day before the album came out.”

Andy mentally facepalmed, but out loud he only said:

“Yeah, I wanted to see if I could fly. Like in the “Fallen Angels” music video.”

“And it didn’t work out.”

“No” he agreed. - “But I survived!”

Kate shook her head with disapproval and took a deep breath.

“And you broke your ribs. Three, if I’m correct.” she said. - “You’re doing okay now, right?” - Andy nodded. - “Does this accident have anything to do with the scar visible in the latest photo with fans?”

He knew she was gonna ask about it.

He even had an answer prepared.

“To some extent” he said, making the journalist raise an eyebrow. He was starting to have fun. She asked him to elaborate so he continued: - “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have this scar. Neither back there in Hollywood. Back then.” - he was really enjoying the confusion painted on Kate’s face.

“Can you be more precise, please? Is this a reference to your tweet, let me quote” - the woman glanced at the piece of paper she had pinned to a wooden board. It seemed like a list of questions. - “ _I’ve got half a heart and I can still run faster than y’all do_? What did you mean?”

“I’ve got half a heart” Andy replied calmly. - “And I can still run faster than you.”

He tried not to laugh but it didn’t work out.

Kate seemed slightly irritated, but when she spoke, her voice sounded calm:

“What do you mean you’ve got half a heart? Is it an illness?” Andy nodded here with a victorious grin. Jon would kill him for that, but Jon wasn’t here, he was busy fighting his wife. - “Make it clear, please. Is there a name for it? Is it dangerous?”

“Deadly” Biersack replied and grinned to piss the journalist off completely.

“So should the fans get ready for the end of Black Veil Brides then?” Kate asked, her voice shaking slightly with anger.

“It’s unavoidable, every band ends up like this” Andy shrugged, enjoying the shock on the woman’s face. - “But we’re gonna release a few more albums and piss off some more journalists first” he smiled.

Kate didn’t seem to like the answer, as she decided to approach him from a different angle.

“Tell me how your boyfriend reacted to that? Matt Good, am I right? How long have you two been together? What do you think he thinks about dating a disabled person?”

Andy felt his blood pressure going slightly up, but he didn’t let it show.

“He would say he’d rather date me than a blonde whore like you” he said calmly and glanced at his fingernails. - “We’ve been together since Warped Tour” he added like nothing happened. - “Any other questions?”

Kate took a deep breath, touched by this disgrace.

“I’ve got a long list” she said with an evil grin. - “Let me know if you need a glass of water or a break to get some fresh air.”

“I’ll manage, but my lawyer will be in touch regarding the mental abuse of disabled people” Andy said, got up, waved at the camera and walked out of the studio.

*

“I don’t know what’s worse, mosquitos or Jon” Andy said when he killed another insect on his arm. The tiny terrace, or more like, balcony, was hidden behind bushes of flowers growing in the space outside the railing, built for this purpose. Because of that, there were tons of mosquitos around. Scented candles and incenses didn’t help much.

“Mosquitos don’t yell at you” Matt laughed and sat Andy on his knees. The view at the town from here was amazing, worth even getting bitten by mosquitos.

“That’s fair” Biersack agreed. - “He’s surely gonna kill me for this interview. Or is he?”

Matt laughed.

“You took it a bit too far, to be honest” he said. - “But yeah, I’d date you in any instance. Are you gonna sue that woman?”

Six shook his head. He couldn’t be arsed to go to court with any newspaper, but he considered the interview a great one and was really proud of himself. The fans took his side, obviously, at least most of them. And luckily, not many people were bothered with his relationship with Matt.

Except for Ashley, who kept sending him messages like “Come back to me, I miss you :(“ or “If you don’t come back to me, I’ll kick all the others out of the band.”

Andy went to see the lawyer because of the latter one, but the man said that to kick anyone out, both of them had to agree on that, so all of Andy’s friends were safe.

It wasn’t any different this time.

Andy’s phone buzzed. He grabbed it because him and Matt usually just laughed at the content of the messages, the desperate bassist couldn’t let go.

Six unblocked the screen and glanced at the short text, raising an eyebrow.

Matt looked over his shoulder to read it and whined quietly before he could stop himself from doing it.

“Come back to me. You’re going to be much happier with me than with this loser. You’ll soon stop liking him, you’ll see. Is it the anorexic one? Or the bulimic one, whatever, not that you can tell from sight, honestly hahah”.

And another text, that came a few seconds later:

“I’m serious. We were good for each other. Two sex icons, teenage idols. Let me know”.

“That’s enough” Andy said and deleted the messages before blocking the bassist’s number. It used to be fun until he started insulting Andy’s boyfriend for no reason. - “Fuck him.”

“Is there anywhere he can get some help for being stupid?” Matt forced a smile and hugged Six, even though he really felt like running away and hide somewhere.

He didn’t want to go back to his old habits of irresponsible behaviour and self destruction, but those words really hurt. Even if he looked fine.

Because he didn’t see himself that way and when he finally managed to stop criticizing himself for any minor inconvenience, this happened. Two texts that ruined his self esteem again.

Insecurities.

He was thin, he could see it in the pictures and Andy never said otherwise.

Why did the bassist say it then? Maybe he accidentally mistook him for Sonny with that eating disorder. Or maybe he did it on purpose?

Matt mentioned once to Andy that he had stopped eating at some point. Maybe Ash was around then?

He couldn’t turn back time and check and he had no doubt Andy liked and wanted him, but…

Maybe he had some doubt though?

And the fact that he got called a loser.

As if D.R.U.G.S.’ success never existed, like only the hiatus of his previous band was the only thing that mattered.

“Do you want some hot chocolate?” Andy asked suddently, bringing the guitarist back to reality.

Of course he wanted, but he couldn’t.

“I’m not hungry” he answered and forced a smile to convince Biersack everything was fine.

He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the table and lighted one, taking a deep drag.

He was supposed to quit smoking, but he knew now he wouldn’t make it for sure.

That period of time tasted like smoke, a few years ago, when he was destroying himself.

There was some kind of an euphoric feeling in it, that he definitely shouldn’t glorify or come back to.

But still… It happened.

A long way downhill.

*

“Good morning, beautiful” Andy kissed Matt’s cheek good morning, when he walked into the kitchen.

Biersack had gotten up earlier and just finished making breakfast for the two of them.

Scrambled tofu with vegetables, the guitarist noticed on the verge of panicking.

And frozen tea with honey. Toasts.

Oh dear.

“Are we gonna eat it all?” he laughed, maybe a bit too nervously.

“Of course” Andy hugged him tightly. - “I have to take care of you, I could count your ribs.”

It was true and Matt took it as a compliment.

“If you say so” he said and kissed the younger boy’s forehead.

Biersack blushed and hid behind the black veil of his hair.

Matt grabbed his phone to photograph the boy because he looked cute.

He wasn’t able to, though, because of a Twitter notification.

He clicked on it and raised an eyebrow.

“Why is your ex quoting my band’s lyrics?” he asked Andy, glancing at Ash’s tweet from just a moment ago. Worrying.

_Note to self_

_I miss you terribly_

_This is what_

_We call a tragedy_

_Come back to me_

_To me_

“Cause he’s dumb” Six replied, but, because his phone buzzed too and he wanted to have a good laugh in the morning, he grabbed the device.

He got the notification about the bassist’s tweet, sure, but he also received a direct message from him.

He opened it, not sure what to expect.

And he expected everything but what he saw.

“I will kill myself if you don’t come back to me. You’ve got 10 minutes to decide.”

There was a photo of a revolver attached.


	10. Til I collapse

The sound of the ringtone was annoying.

The monotonous beeping of an alarm clock.

Andy grumbled, blindly reaching for his phone to shut it off, succeeding at third attempt.

It was half past four in the morning.

He had to pick Matt up from the airport.

The guitarist was going to come back from some festival in the UK, where D.R.U.G.S. had gone earlier this week.

He was gone for three days.

Three long days that Andy spent wondering if getting a restraining order against Ash was a good idea.

There was no suicide attempt.

Just cheap blackmail.

The truth came to light pretty quickly.

Back then, a few days ago, Six wasn’t sure what to do. Of course he didn’t want to come back to his ex, he was happy with Matt, but in that moment he felt that the attempt to convince the bassist he was better off without him wasn’t the most sensible solution to the problem.

He didn’t even realize he could just call an ambulance and give them the older man’s address.

Matt did, though.

Later that day it turned out that Ash had sent a couple of texts with the same content earlier, at different times of day. They never reached Andy though, because he had blocked the bassist’s number.

And now the older man wasn’t allowed to come closer than two meters away from the singer.

It wasn’t easy to get the document, both of them were still in the same band and Andy couldn’t just kick Ash out. They’d be forced to break up. And Biersack didn’t want that to happen.

He groaned, tossing the blanket away and forced himself to get out of bed.

He still had some time before Matt’s plane would land, but not enough to enjoy five more minutes of a lie in.

He tugged on a black long sleeve, as the morning was quite cloudy, and a pair of ripped jeans, before making his way to the kitchen, trying not to bump into the wall.

He opened the fridge, noticing it wouldn’t hurt to do some shopping. And that he was actually supposed to sort this out while Matt was gone.

Well, the responsible adult life didn’t always go as planned.

He finally grabed some butter and cottage cheese, hoping his body and mind will approve of this quite healthy combination as well as the lack of any vegetables. If he was correct, the last few tomatoes in the house ended up in a sauce yesterday evening.

Andy sighed heavily, opening one of the cupboards, where they kept the tea.

He reached towards the green, leafy one, but out of sudden he remembered his father’s lecture on how many heavy metal components were in that one and how those stayed in your body. He hesitated and finally grabbed some fruit tea Amy had given him at the stop of Warped Tour in Cincinnati, when she saw the miserable emptiness of the bus kitchen.

Amy, right.

She didn’t seem too keen on Andy and Matt’s relationship. Fine, she found out just when the fans did, but Biersack was hoping for just a little bit of understanding.

He expected his parents to be happy because he was dating someone who was making him happy, not a ted talk that went like “We hoped that phase was gone and you’re actually normal. You broke up with Ash, didn’t that mean you weren’t happy dating a guy? Same-sex couples never work out, that’s not how biology works”.

There was no point in trying to explain to them that there were homosexual relationships everywhere, even among penguins.

Andy rolled his eyes and placed the plates in the dishwasher before grabbing a notepad to make a shopping list.

He hoped to go to the grocery store before he would have to leave to the airport.

It terrified him, how prosaic the adult life was. His parents’ favourite phrase.

*

“And how’s it going?”

Andy glanced at Matt, lifting his gaze from a piece of paper covered in equations and the names of different meds he had to take. An attempt to figure out the right amount of all of them that would last for a month and a half of touring wasn’t the easiest task, especially when you weren’t the best at maths.

“Somehow… I guess” he sighed, wondering how to work out the division of the number of days of tour between the amount of pills in one bottle. He wasn’t sure if he should just multiply the thirty by the days in total or to divide it by four to see how long one bottle would last.

“Do you need some help?” Matt asked. It seemed like he was better at maths and all the sciences that involved calculations. Especially now that he counted calories.

The guitarist put away the fork he was using to pick at his pasta to eat as little as possible but at the same time not to concern Andy or make the boy suspicious; and leaned over the singer who nodded.

The over one week long Australian tour was going to start in a couple of days. Then D.R.U.G.S. were going to go back home and enjoy some vacation until Halloween. Meanwhile Black Veil were supposed to go to Europe. That tour was going to be a month long with a couple of days off here and there.

Andy even hoped Matt would be able to fly there at some point halfway through and, if possible, to stay until the end. Jon didn’t know yet but they were going to let him know as soon as the guitarist was already there.

Matt grabbed a pen, helping Six out with the calculations. The younger boy wasn’t entirely terrible at maths. It only took him longer to figure out the equations, but they didn’t have enough time for that. Biersack still had to show up at the shooting of “Rebel Love Song” music video.

*

“Your lipstick smeared” CC noticed, glancing at Andy, who was fixing his hair in the mirror.

It wasn’t that they had to close down a crossing of two roads to shoot a music video late at night, not at all.

Biersack shrugged and wiped the raspberry pink smudge under his bottom lip away, then hugged Matt who was sitting outside the set. Smoking. Again.

“You’re gonna get lung cancer” Andy complained, taking the cigarette away from the guitarist and put it out on the concrete road, ignoring Matt’s sigh of protest. - “Seriously. Besides, my mom wouldn’t like the fact that you smoke when I’m around” - he added, grinning, making the older man roll his eyes.

“Does she even like anything?” he asked. Lately he became really annoyed at the smallest things.

Andy had no idea why, but it automatically made him feel distressed that he said something wrong, he definitely did, there was no other explanation. Or he irritated Matt. Andy’s existence, behaviour. Everything. Anything.

Biersack had no idea the only reason why Good was annoyed at the world was just malnourishment.

During the short stay in England, the guitarist avoided food as much as he could, same when he came back home.

Cigarettes and bubblemint smoothed away the feeling of hunger, so he used them whenever he could.

Disappearing in sight.

“You two are cute” Jinxx said, stopping by the couple to grab some hairspray Andy had, as his teased hair lost some of its volume.

“Thanks” Biersack smiled softly and hugged Matt before getting up, forced to go back to the video set. He didn’t want to stain the guitarist with his lipstick while kissing and smear it either, so a hug was the best option.

The singer got worried though, he really could count Matt’s ribs, despite the hoodie he was wearing.

The hoodie.

The evening was hot, windless, moisty.

Andy could barely make it wearing just a vest.

How come Matt was cold?

*

“Time to get up, love.”

Andy grudgingly opened his eyes, only to close them back after a split of a second when the light of a lamp hit him.

It took him a moment to realize what was going on and why he was being woken up in the middle of the night.

He opened his eyes again, covering them with his hand and blindly reached towards his phone lying on the nightstand.

It was four in the morning.

Australia.

“Do we have to fly there?” he asked sleepily, but sat up and wrapped a blanked around his shoulders, feeling cold for some reason.

“Yes, we do and deep inside you want it” Matt laughed, throwing him a pair of grey ripped jeans and a tank top.

“I don’t want to” the singer denied, covering himself with a blanket again. - “Even Jon won’t make me get out of bed.”

He hated getting up this early. That was to say, in most cases he was excited about tours starting but this time, he wasn’t able to sleep for the past couple of nights and the only thing he wanted was just that. He fell asleep around two, so there was nothing unusual about it.

Insomnia had left him long ago, until recently. Same with no will to do anything related to the start of the tour.

For some reason the morning reminded him all the trips with his parents. Holidays or not.

Lack of appetite, cold and the feeling of things not being real.

The darkness outside.

The town being asleep.

Or the recording of “We Stitch These Wounds”, when the producer would call him in the studio at any given time, whenever he could, often in the middle of the night.

How many times he walked down that dark, dirty street from the building where Jake’s apartment was, to his car parked on the cross street?

He remembered an empty square where a house was being bulldozed. Sometimes the workers would leave the gate open and he could see an now uncovered basement or a road underground. A tiny park just next to it, a sushi takeaway, closed at that time. A couple of blocks of flats, built back in the past century. Benches under the trees.

And a man walking his dogs that Andy would always pass by if he was leaving around five.

At some point they started exchanging awkward smiles. Andy wondered if that guy considered him a weirdo, an effeminate creature coming back… from somewhere or going… somewhere to get laid with another weirdo. If it really was so, Biersack felt weirdly satisfied by this man’s misconception.

And then he would turn round the corner, car keys in his hand.

The singer’s black chevrolet, falling apart, always broken in the least appropriate moments, a piece of junk Andy’s father gave him when he got his driver’s license, would usually be unevenly parked on the pavement. Parallel parking of the car wasn’t the easiest task and Six never learned how to do it properly, just like maths. Or swimming. Although he could park his car perfectly within the space of the parking lot’s lines. Many times he even had to correct Amy’s poor skills back in Cincinnati.

Some woman was smoking a cigarette, standing in the open door leading to the hall of one of the buildings on the street. Long, blonde, wavy hair, damaged from bleaching. It was always the same one, in her fifties, wearing a bathrobe.

They pretended not to see each other and then Andy would get into his car and drive to the studio, listening to The Misfits to wake up properly. Or Placebo, at nights like this one, when there was no motivation in sight and he only wanted to curl up and runaway, go back home, tired of fighting for everything, again, because high school made him a wreck and now reality finally hit him with the fact that things weren’t what they seemed to be. He felt like he was stuck in the same damn high school again.

But he couldn’t come back.

There was no other way, he couldn’t turn back time.

Besides, would he be happy if he chose another way?

He wouldn’t be _the lost child_ , as his parents tended to joke.

So who would he be?

The thought of being forced to cut his hair unwillingly only to fit into the dress code made him disgusted. Let alone if he ended up studying some management or economy, accounting or something only to follow his father’s steps and work in an office or in a corporation?

He wouldn’t be able to take it mentally.

 _Mr. Biersack, sales department_. A suit, his hair half an inch long, cause if it was longer, it became wavy and his boss surely wouldn’t approve of that.

His boss.

Andy wouldn’t be able to behave just as some fat bastard in a suit two sizes too small, triple chin, unsuccessful attempts to cover up his baldness, would want him to.

And if it turned out Andy was gay… Because he thought he was - there was no chance he could survive, be himself. Unless he wasn’t out.

“So are you gonna get up?” Matt asked, standing in the door, looking surprised that Andy really had not gotten out of bed yet.

The clothes were still lying in the same place the guitarist had thrown them and Biersack was sitting on the bed, staring blindly on a wall, a blanket wrapped around him.

“I guess I have to” the singer sighed heavily and placed the blanket besides him before grabbing the tank top. There was no print at the front, besides, Jon wanted them to not stand out of the crowd this time, so that the fans wouldn’t stop them on the way to the plane, which could leave without them. Having to change twice on the way meant being stuck at one of the airports all day, if not longer, if that happened. And in that case, they might not have been able to make it to Australia on time.

“I think so” Matt laughed and walked up to Andy to kiss him on the forehead. - “I’m gonna go smoke, come join me when you’re ready.”

Biersack nodded and took off a t-shirt that served as his pj’s and threw it beside him, onto a pillow.

“Eat something, please” he said, because the guitarist still seemed to be disappearing in sight, more and more everyday.

“We’re gonna get food at the airport” Good shrugged, knowing he wasn’t going to eat much even there, not when he had just seen Andy shirtless. Was it toxic that his boyfriend was his motivation to be stuck in self destruction?

“It won’t hurt you if you have something here, too” Six put the tank top on and fixed his tangled hair. Even now, without teasing, its volume was huge, unbrushed and wavy. - “Or I’m gonna tie you to a chair and feed” - he threatened.

“Try it” Matt laughed, maybe a bit too nervously, so he walked out of the room, to the terrace to smoke.

Andy sighed heavily and tugged his jeans on, wondering how to talk to the guitarist to get across to him. The singer was more and more worried. Emotional blackmail was out of question, that was Ash’s strategy and things ended up the way they did. Besides, forced obedience wouldn’t be fair.

Biersack fixed the blanket on the bed and threw his hairbrush into the suitcase, then made his way to the terrace where Matt was.

“Good morning” Andy said, hugging the guitarist from backwards and resting his head on the man’s shoulder. - “Stop smoking this much.”

“Then go to bed before midnight” the older man bit back and took a drag out of his half burnt cigarette, staring at the dark sky and the city lights in the distance.

“My job won’t let me. Your nicotine addiction is something else” Andy sat in front of Matt on a piece of wall that served as a bench. The backrest belonged to a flowerbed which was a part of the balcony’s railing. The singer wanted to call the guitarist’s nicotine addiction a fad, but he resisted, not feeling like fighting before the sunrise, especially that Good seemed really moody lately. - “Besides we have to go” - he added and got up, feeling awoken a bit, hit by a sudden wave of energy, making him unable to sit still.

Matt nodded, forced to agree with Andy and put his cigarette out on the window sill, before giving the city a final glance and following Six inside.

*

The Australian tour, despite the heat, was a really good one. Sure, nearly twenty four hours of flight were tiring, but the way the fans welcomed them made both bands forget about the fatigue.

Andy wasn’t brave enough to get in the water further than to knees height, let alone to swim with the dolphins, contrary to his boyfriend.

As soon as he made sure that Biersack found the tiles around the pool cozy and comfortable, Matt disappeared in water. Andy even managed to take a photo of the guitarist kissing one of the dolphins, that turned out really cute, even though he started wondering if he shouldn’t be jealous.

_You don’t kiss me like that, he laughed when Matt sat next to him a couple of minutes later, dripping with water. In response, Good placed his hands on Andy’s cheeks and kissed him passionately, soaking the boy’s clothes with his wetsuit._

A week and a half passed way too quickly, mostly because there were a couple of weeks of being apart coming.

Black Veil Brides’ European leg of the tour was approaching and D.R.U.G.S. were going back to the States for another month of holidays until Halloween. Andy couldn’t wait the cold weather of European autumn.

“I’m gonna miss you, terribly” Matt said, hugging Andy under the board with the displays of all the flights, where “Boarding” just popped up next to the number of the plane to London.

Biersack thought exactly the same, but he didn’t say it out loud. He wasn’t really touchy-feely, so he only hugged the guitarist tighter, ignoring Jon’s complaints about how late they were going to be.

“It’s only a month, we can do it” the singer said finally, grabbing the guitarist’s face. - “And you have to eat” he added sharply, as he almost cut his fingers on the man’s cheekbones.

“But you have to take care of yourself too” Matt replied, grabbing Andy’s wrist. The boy was still wearing a hospital wristband. Since June. It seemed like he decided to make it a souvenir. Sentimental.

“Yes mom” Six laughed and kissed the guitarist goodbye, because Jon was almost dragging him by the hand.

He finally pulled apart from Matt, unwillingly and followed the rest of his band down the corridor, waving at the man until he disappeared from sight when they turned round the corner, heading to the gates.

*

It was cold in London. Compared to Australia.

And windy.

Actually, the pilot mentioned that when he was talking about the forecast before they landed and besides, the plane was swinging a lot when going down, but Andy did not expect the wind to be this strong.

The gusts of rain and fog hit him as soon as he walked outside on the stairs leading down to the tarmac. He almost lost his balance when the wind got even stronger, even though he was holding a bag that surely weighed good twenty pounds.

And even though, he felt at home. At his second home. That’s how the band and his father referred to the UK.

Andy loved coming here. The gloomy, rainy weather was his favourite. He couldn’t complain about the lack of it here.

They were going to spend the whole of the upcoming week here, before heading to the mainland to play some shows there. Then they would come back to the UK for a couple of shows, excluding one day in Japan.

Biersack wrapped the leather jacket tighter around himself and put on a hood of Matt’s deep blue hoodie, before walking towards the building, shivering from the wind.

He missed it, no wonder though, he grew up in Cincinnati, where they had four seasons. The temperature in Los Angeles never dropped that low.

He couldn’t wait for the shows to start. The beginning of October seemed like a perfect time to visit the UK. The landscape was magical in here.

He only regretted that this tour was planned in such a way that D.R.U.G.S. couldn’t come too. The atmosphere really resembled the Harry Potter vibe and Andy was sure Matt would love it.

Especially the city, cloudy, gloomy, big and raw, full of people. The colorful leaves carried by the wind or pressed into the pavement.

The squares and parks squeezed in between the buildings, covered in shades of gold, red and brown. There was no place that would look bad. Somehow, the landscape was balanced so that everything fit perfectly into it, no exaggeration.

All of it had a slightly visible vibe of the past decades, but Andy wasn’t sure, it might’ve been because of The Cure playing in his earphones.

It was getting dark, Jon mentioned something about a tourbus in Southampton, where they were going to play the next day.

“Let’s move to England someday” - Andy texted Matt, remembering he had promised to let the man know as soon as they landed. Well, this message sounded way better than a casual “We’re here :)”.

He leaned his head against the car window, glancing at the people on the streets.

It started raining for good, so they all blurred in the raindrops illuminated with the yellow light of the street lamps. These, as well as the car lights were diverging in strips into the darkness. Or maybe he was the only one seeing them like this and just needed to get his eyes checked. He had no idea.

He bundled the earbuds cord up and placed it into his pocket when he felt a headache appearing. No wonder, he had spent the past twenty four hours on the plane and at the airports. It was a really loud journey, both because of the sound of the plane engine as well as the talks of thousands of people in the terminals. Oh, and Jon yelling at the band to make sure no one got lost on the way.

Yazoo was playing from the car radio, fitting perfectly into the autumny vibe of the chilly afternoon.

If Andy was right, it was late evening in Los Angeles right now, but Matt seemed to be awake because he texted back after a few minutes.

“Only if you finally agree to take the Hogwarts house test on Pottermore.”

Biersack rolled his eyes and glanced back at the dark, rainy London street.

“Fair enough. You win.” - he replied finally and put the phone into his pocket, noticing that the song on the radio wasn’t the original “Don’t go”, but some remastered, mixed version, that sounded more electronic.

It was perfect for the cozy atmosphere of the inside of the car in a cold evening.

*

“I think we’re lost” the bus driver said helplessly, probably thinking Andy was paying attention to him if he sat next to him, on the stairs. He definitely shouldn’t be sitting there, no seatbelt and while the vehicle was moving, but there was no one around who would dare to complain about it.

Jon left early in the morning, to go to the venue, to sort, as he put it, the paperwork. The rest of the band was busy drinking. Except for Jinxx who said he’d join them later and went to visit an art gallery with one of the tech guys who turned out to be fascinated with history.

Andy considered joining them, but visual art never really appealed to him, he couldn’t interpret it properly, if at all. The words, books, poems and songs were different - he had no trouble understanding them.

So he ended up sitting with the driver who had promised to take them to the venue where they were supposed to meet the rest of the team for soundcheck. But - shit - they got lost.

“According to the GPS, I’m supposed to turn left here, but we’ve passed this place three times already” the driver said helplessly, motioning towards the device attached to the front window.

“Maybe you overlooked some side street?” Andy suggested in response, feeling the man’s stress coming down on him.

He glanced at the road in front of them, turning the radio down a little bit. The Smiths were playing - actually because Andy had asked for it. Besides, they were in the band’s hometown - Manchester - so it would be a sin not to play some of their songs.

The guitar riff of “How Soon Is Now?” was crying in the background, cutting deep into Andy’s lonely soul as the driver pulled into some tiny alley - according to the white board on one of the buildings - it was called Port Street.

In the distance, they could see mordern skyscrapers, but the street itself looked nothing alike - just a couple of two-storey buildings, a parking and a black wall of one of the houses that stood out from everything else in the neighbourhood. In ten years a portrait of the singer of Joy Division would be painted there.

“Well, I think I know where we are” the driver sighed with relief, turning right as he passed by the aforementioned building. Andy responded with a smile and the man turned the music up, happily, it seemed, so that the cry of the guitar filled the space of the bus. It sounded like a gloomy day late in November, a rainy afternoon, an evening maybe. It was dark outside and the (un)happy listener was sitting on a bed in a warm house, in their tiny room, wallpaper on the walls. The light of the lamp was yellow and warm. It was raining, the drops hit the windows, carried by the gusts of wind, as strong as only during this season, on the bus windows, because it started raining again, but it wasn’t a bad thing.

The weather was perfect, Andy was happy for the first time in ages.

*

Andy never expected there’d be a day when he’d let Ashley sing a whole song at a show.

And yet-

It all happened because due to the fatigue (he thought so! they just came back from Japan where they had spent less than a day), which made the singer dizzy for a moment, convinced that everything became a dream.

Moments like these he just had to grab a hold of something to come back to reality. In this case, the drumset was the closest object to reach towards to.

Well actually, he just planned to lean against the platform it was standing on. The problem was that he didn’t calculate the distance properly and his face hit the instrument.

It hurt, but not badly.

Besides, the technician nearby said Andy looked fine.

It wasn’t until a couple of minutes later Jon saw him and - as always - started yelling.

Andy walked off stage and was handed a bag of ice and some tissues.

The state of euphoria or maybe shock made him ignore the nose bleed at first. He just didn’t see it. He only realized something was wrong when he sat on the couch backstage. The blood was running down his face and dripping on the clothes, as if it wasn’t going to stop.

He almost got into a fight with one of the bodyguards who tried to hand him another bag of ice.

It took a moment to realize that his face was hurting. Or his head. He wasn’t sure.

It felt like sinusitis, but it wasn’t possible.

The last thing he wanted was another injury, in addition somewhere in Europe, far from home, in a country where no one from their crew knew the language people spoke.

Where were they even?

He wasn’t sure.

Did he agree for Ash to finish the show?

With just a handwave, he didn’t want to give the satisfaction to the bassist.

The singing - surprisingly, in tune - of the man was coming from the stage, while Jon was trying to google the emergency number, because it surely had to be different than in the States.

“I’ll be fine” Biersack said finally but the moment he spoke, he felt some warm liquid that tasted like metal, on the back of his throat, so he started to feel slightly worried.

He knew this amount of blood, bigger than it would normally be, was only due to the meds he was taking. And that he would end up looking like a victim of domestic violence, even though he assumed it was just a normal bruising. He was almost sure the bleeding came because some tiny blood vessels in his nose broke and that tended to happen even during a common cold.

“You don’t look fine” Jon sighed, even though Ashley just assured the fans that nothing serious had happened to Andy. - “We’re going to the hospital, put some proper clothes on.”

And so they went. In a taxi.

The driver wasn’t keen on letting them into the car, probably assuming Six was just blackout drunk and ended up in a fight only to stain the seats with blood now, but he finally agreed and took the singer, Jake and Jon to the nearest hospital.

The ER was empty late at night so it didn’t take them long to wait for a doctor. The man spoke English and said he had never seen someone breaking their nose bone all the way down vertically.

Andy got used to the fact that he was unusual, people hadn’t seen anyone who was a rockstar with a chronic illness or who was so successful for a high school dropout, who could have any girl but wanted a guy, before they met him.

The doctor continued to speak, but Biersack couldn’t focus on his words. He was exhausted with x-rays, tests and the pain itself. In addition, he was starving so much he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it to the car. He didn’t feel like eating anything though, he could still feel the taste of blood in his mouth which definitely didn’t encourage him to eat.

The man mentioned something about cancelling the remaining shows, two weeks of the injury healing, an ointment for the bruises and some painkillers, but Six barely registered that.

He creased the blooded tissue in his hand and wiped the tears away. They seemed to be rolling down his cheeks on their own, probably due to the injury, he surely wasn’t crying.

“Here’s your discharge” the doctor said, handing a piece of paper to Andy, who began to wonder why he didn’t give it to Jon. And then he realized he was an adult.

He grabbed the sheet and stood up shakily, so the manager walked up to him to catch him just in case.

“How about we have some pizza?” Jake suggested when they walked down the white hospital hall. The light was blinding Andy and he was feeling nauseous, but he had to eat something.

“Can I get some fries?” he agreed, wondering if he should call his parents or Matt first and who of the three would lecture him the longest.

And then it hit him that he was all alone, far away from his family, almost eight thousand miles from home, with a broken face.

He could only hope there’d be no sight of the injury once it healed.

*

“You look terrible” Matt said, hugging Andy as he walked up to him in the airport’s terminal.

Biersack’s face was still bruised, he seemed visibly tired, skinnier than the guitarist had remembered him. The singer was wearing the older man’s hoodie, his hair a mess.

“I look like a sex icon” Six laughed, wrapping his arms around Good. - “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Not that much.”

“That’s great” Matt kissed his forehead and grabbed the bags from him before both of them made their way to the car.

The European tour came to an end, now they had some time off before Black Veil’s Buried Alive Tour and D.R.U.G.S.’ November run of shows around the States.

Andy was really exhausted. The jet lag, change of places and long journeys did their job. He was sure it all would backfire on him sooner or later.

The only good thing about the past couple of days was a successful show in London, despite his injury and the fact that he came up with some ideas for Black Veil’s next album.

Apocalypse.

A movie.

Alter ego.

It was still only a sketch of the story, written in the notes section of his phone but he was hoping to expand the story on some paper as soon as he could and show it to the others later.

He got into the car and leaned against the seat, closing his eyes.

Now, when the stress was gone, it hit him how tired he really was.

He fell asleep on the highway leading to the city.

Matt didn’t want to wake him up when they arrived, so he just carried the boy upstairs and put him into bed.

Andy slept through the whole afternoon and night, waking up next morning with a familiar feeling of a blunt headache, this time worse because of the broken nose.

The fatigue backfired.

He opened his eyes, but closed them back immediately as the sunlight coming into the room through the window blinded him.

Matt wasn’t next to him, it seemed like he had gotten up earlier.

And actually, as Six became more awake, aware of the sounds around him, he could hear the street noise, someone’s footsteps in the staircase and the dishes in the kitchen being moved from one place to the other.

All of it was accompanied by the smell of toasts.

Andy ran to the bathroom, feeling a wave of nausea, barely making it on time.

He threw up the leftovers of yesterday’s dinner, eaten on the plane, almost twenty four hours ago.

No wonder his stomach was twisting.

Too bad the combination of the hunger pangs and a headache always ended this way.

Andy leaned his forehead against the cool porcelain, breathing heavily, wondering if everything was over or if he should expect to puke once more.

His hair, still dirty from the journey, really needed to be washed now that the endings were covered in vomit.

He didn’t get to tie it.

Neither did he manage to brush away the feathers tangled in his hair.

In addition to that, some of the vomit went through his nose, so it started to hurt too.

“Are you okay?”

He half-consciously glanced at Matt, who he hadn’t noticed earlier. How long had the man been standing here? A moment? Two? Or longer?

Andy shook his head barely noticeably in response to the question and threw up again, but this time the guitarist held his hair away from his face.

“Is it another migraine?” Good asked, worried.

Biersack murmured something in response and rested his head on his hand, reaching towards the flush with the other hand.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Matt asked and, not waiting for a response, added: - “You need to eat something, I’ll make you a sandwich. You should take a shower, you’ll feel better. I’ll bring you some pj’s”.

Andy stood up shakily, leaning his arm against the wall for support to keep the balance. He was shivering and freezing, it seemed like his body was made from lead.

He took a deep breath and slowly took his shirt off, the same one he fell asleep in. He threw the piece of clothing to the floor before taking a break to wait and see if it was going to make him nauseous and when nothing happened, he took the sweatpants off too.

Matt left as he was getting rid of his Batman boxers.

And then, as if in a slow motion mode to not throw up from any sudden movement, Andy stepped into the shower, hoping the warm water would make him feel better.

He knew the fatigue would backfire, but he was hoping he would be able to sleep through it so that it didn’t end like it always did. Well, he overreached himself.

He still had the impression that they were all on the road, at the airport, on the plane, on the highway, that if he closed his eyes and opened them back, he’d wake up somewhere midway through the journey, feeling like this. He didn’t want it.

He stepped out of the shower, smiling at the sight of his pj’s resting on the counter. Matt really cared a lot.

Andy put the clothes on and dragged himself back to bed, happy that the nausea seemed to be gone for a second. Feeding off the false hope that he’d feel better. As always. And it never worked.

He buried himself under the blanket, trying to shove the shivers away, but they didn’t seem to be interested in that offer.

There was a plate with two pieces of bread spreaded with butter and a cup of tea on the nightstand. The brew was most probably sweetened - had Matt already managed to call his parents? Or maybe it was the older man’s intuition?

Biersack forced himself to sit up and grabbed the food, pushing himself to eat it slowly, hoping not to throw it up. Not yet, at least.

Things got worse with the tea. The sweet taste brought the nausea back, but Andy managed to empty the mug.

He lied down on the side, closing his eyes, hoping to fall asleep and sleep through the migraine.

“I got you some water” Matt’s voice shook him out of the half-conscious state.

Andy opened his eyes and saw the guitarist holding a bottle of water. The man placed it on the nightstand and sat on the bed.

Chris and Amy tended to complain Andy had drunk too little if he managed to force himself to drink the amount equal to one glass of water, before he decided to keep drinking. The thing was, he wasn’t going to stop after one glass, but it took more effort to make the same volume stay down if he wasn’t feeling well.

“Thanks” he mumbled and grabbed the bottle, drinking a little before his stomach flipped again.

“Try to get some sleep and you’ll feel better” Matt said, wrapping a blanket around the boy.

Andy closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep, but it wasn’t that easy if his face was hurting and he couldn’t just dig it into the pillow which usually helped.

He must’ve drifted off finally though, because when he opened his eyes again, it was late afternoon.

He still wasn’t feeling well, the waves of nausea coming and going.

He grabbed the bottle of water, certain that he was still dehydrated and opened it slowly.

He managed to drink half of it, so he lied down on the side and texted Matt that he was awake and could try to eat something, as the guitarist wasn’t in the bedroom.

Half an hour later the sandwiches ended up in the bathroom.

*

Twelve hours.

That’s how much time passed since morning.

Andy managed to fall back asleep, but this time Matt lied down beside him.

He was worried about Biersack, even though he knew that the poor state of being was pretty normal after such a crazy tour.

So far, Six had drunk one and a half bottles of water and two cups of sweetened tea, but he threw up some of it.

The guitarist was trying to reassure himself that the boy usually tended to feel better the next day. Also, Andy never mentioned the migraine lasted longer. Except for that one trip to the mountains he once told Matt about. But he was like ten years old back then. Not twenty. There was a big difference. There had to be. Matt wanted to believe it.

He kissed Andy’s forehead goodnight, fixed his blanket and hugged him from behind, trying to fall asleep, even though he knew it was impossible. He was too worried. And he didn’t want to be asleep in case Six needed him.

Was he starting to panic?

Maybe.

*

Matt slept for like three, maybe four hours.

Finally, assured that Andy wasn’t planning to wake up yet, he walked to the kitchen.

He forgot to eat the previous day and he didn’t want to faint when Six had a migraine.

He opened the fridge, looking for something light for breakfast for the two of them, hoping Biersack would feel better today.

He finally settled on sandwiches with thin slices of some ham.

Not that he wanted to eat anything.

Food tasted like paper for a while and didn’t make him feel any joy, like it used to. Besides, his eating disorder didn’t seem to want to go away and Matt wasn’t feeling strong enough to fight it either.

The guitarist placed the plates on the table and made his way to the bedroom to check if Andy had woken up.

He was right. Biersack wasn’t asleep.

He was lying curled up under the blanket, staring blindly at the wall.

“Good morning, love” Matt said, sitting on the edge of the bed. - “How are you feeling?”

“Ugh” Andy replied and covered himself with the blanket.

It wasn’t the response Good hoped for. It also meant that the migraine wasn’t gone.

“Will you try to eat something?” Matt asked. In response, Andy mumbled something incomprehensible, so the guitarist decided to try. He couldn’t rule out the possibility that Six was just hungry… right?

*

Three thrown up cups of tea later Matt gave up. He had no idea what to do, Andy barely reacted to any attempts to have a conversation, to encourage him to do something. He seemed (and most probably was) very dehydrated. He started shivering too, when the guitarist opened the window for a second.

“Get dressed, we’re gonna go to hospital” the man said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing Andy’s sweaty hair away from his pale face.

Biersack mumbled something, unconvinced, but after a few minutes sat up, grabbing a plastic bowl, because his stomach flipped.

The crisis seemed to be gone a moment later and Andy stood up shakily, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a longsleeve from Matt.

He slowly put them on, getting rid of the pj’s first, and wrapped a leather jacket around him.

Meanwhile, Good tied his hair and handed him a plastic bag.

He was holding some more of those too, just in case.

When Andy was tying the laces of his boots, which took ages to do, Matt grabbed the car keys and a bottle of water.

“Let’s go” he said softly, helping Biersack up.

The boy barely made it to the lift, but refused to be carried so as not to throw up.

They went downstairs, where they had to stop for a second, because Andy almost puked in the garage.

And then they drove to hospital, possibly slowly.

*

The darkness of the evening and the sound of a power generator in the distance reminder Biersack of the hospital in Cincinnati, where he would often end up as a child due to the severe dehydration from migraines.

The air was hot and sticky, making the boy feel even more nauseous.

The smell of cigarettes in the staircase leading to the ER (they parked on the wrong side) did not help either and when they finally ended up in the right place, Andy had trouble keeping his stomach in place.

It seemed a miracle that they ran into the same doctor that took care of the singer’s ribs back in June.

“What did you break this time?” she asked cheerfully, glancing at his bruised face.

“This time it’s a migraine” Andy replied and took a deep breath, trying not to throw up.

“I’ll prescribe you some painkillers and…” she started, but Matt interrupted her.

“I think he’s dehydrated, he’s been throwing up since yesterday, when the migraine started, but apparently it happens sometimes” he said, hoping these words would be somehow helpful. Andy instantly leaned over the bag he was holding and threw up.

“Right, you are…” the doctor seemed to have remembered something, maybe from Biersack’s previous stay here. - “Let’s go” - she said and started walking down the hall, not looking back at the two of them, so they almost lost her.

The effort paid off, though, fifteen minutes later Andy was lying in bed in a small hospital room, half asleep, an IV attached to his hand.

“Is it going to be okay now?” Matt asked, hoping it all would finally end. Not that he blamed anyone, he just wanted Andy to feel better.

“For sure” Biersack replied sleepily, covering his eyes from the yellow light of the lamp. - “Goodnight. I’ll be fine in a couple of hours, I promise” he added and turned to the side, because it was darker this way.

Matt grabbed his hand and sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the stress of the past two days finally wear off.

They weren’t forced to try to cope on their own. Nothing bad was going to happen to Andy here and even if - the doctors knew how to help him.

Did Matt regret this relationship? No.

Not even for a second.

“How’s Andy feeling?” the same doctor that admitted Six, walked into the room after some time Matt lost the track of.

“Better, I think. I mean, at least he said he’d feel better once the drip finishes” the guitarist replied, brushing a streak of hair away from Six’s face. The content of the plastic bottle hanging above him was almost gone. It was dripping pretty fast.

“He was dehydrated. It happens a lot with migraines. And migraines tend to happen a lot when you have some heart issues” the woman said, smiling softly. Good finally had an opportunity to take a better look at her. She was blonde, in her thirties. For some reason she seemed to be that persom who would bring warmth into the room. Or maybe Matt had had enough and was ready to trust anyone who could take care of his boyfriend. - “It’s all due to fatigue” - the doctor continued. That one the guitarist knew, Andy complained he had a headache sometimes, when he played a few shows in a row. And the Warped migraine. The only issue was that Good had never had a firsthand experience of that situation. He had no idea what it looked like, until now. - “By the way, what happened to his face?”

“He fell on stage” Matt shrugged with an awkward smile. This was the official version they made up in case someone asked. - “At a show last week. He’s in a band” - the guitarist added as an explanation.

“A crazy idea considering the consequences” the doctor laughed. - “But as long as he’s a responsible adult, he can do whatever he wants to.”

“I’ll take care of that” Matt replied and fixed the blanket on Andy.

He wasn’t going anywhere anyway.

  
  
  



	11. Ho ho holy crap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes I'm super exhausted and I just skimmed through the text to see how it looked overall!

Andy really had to get Jon some flowers or a bottle of whisky for planning the last show of the Buried Alive tour basically in the suburbs of Los Angeles. The whole crew seemed to be in festive mood, no wonder though, it was the second half of December. The middle of the night.

Andy closed the massive door leading to the staircase behind him, hoping he had done it quietly. He only wanted to wake Matt up, not the whole neighbourhood.

He walked to the door, grabbing the keys from his bag’s side pocket and put them in the keyhole, before pushing the door open, hoping they wouldn’t crack.

They did not.

He walked into the dark apartment and placed his bag on the floor, smiling at the sight of a light garland wrapped around the spruce benches, decorated with red and gold ribbons, hanging by the ceiling.

It smelled like tangerines, covering up the usual smell of a concrete, newly built building.

Biersack placed his leather jacket on the hangers by the wall and made his way to the living room.

The lamp in the corner illuminated the room, an open notepad lying on the table, a laptop closed in half, a guitar and finally - Matt, sleeping under his Batman blanket.

Andy smiled and stopped himself from placing his ice-cold hands under Good’s t-shirt. Instead, he kneeled by the couch and kissed the man’s forehead before poking him to wake him up.

“I’m back” he said joyfully, when the still sleepy guitarist opened his eyes.

“Finally” Matt sat up and hugged Andy tightly. - “Do you want some spaghetti?”

“Is this a rhetorical question?” Biersack chuckled. He got up from the floor and glanced at the notebook. The sheets were almost empty, except for some chords and the word _D.R.U.G.S._ written at the top of the page on the left.

The emotions from the show began to wear off and Andy started to realize how tired he was.

He was glad to be back home. He had missed Matt and was counting down the days until the end of the tour.

He wondered if the “homesickness” had anything to do with the weird, almost uncomfortable feeling that had been haunting him for the past couple of weeks.

It had never happened before and he thought he wasn’t able to feel it, but the other night he realized he missed the guitarist. Not only his touch, kisses on the forehead, cuddling on the couch and playing with each other’s hair, but… He wanted… more.

He couldn’t name it, but the waves of some kind of desire would come and go. When they appeared, he couldn’t sit still. He wanted… touch, but a different one than he’d experienced so far. Something closer. Openness in closeness. A perfect fit for each other.

He knew well what was happening to him, how Matt was making him feel, but he couldn’t admit that.

Asexual people didn’t experience lust. Ever.

Right?

The internet said something opposite, that they did, but rarely.

Andy concluded that he didn’t fit into the category of “rareness”, because in his case, the feeling had lasted for the past couple of weeks with some breaks in between.

So he had to be making it up.

He thought so.

And again, he got lost, because the label stopped working. He had no idea how to tell Matt either. After their last, unlucky… attempt, he had no hope to initiate anything at all.

Even a conversation about it all.

Besides, he still found sex terrifying.

He had never done it before and he didn’t want to do anything wrong… or to get ridiculed, either.

Also, he wasn’t sure if all of this wasn’t just a purely platonic desire that had no point of being fulfilled in real life.

And… would he even let anyone touch him that way?

It was too early, even in the moments when… when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore.

He wished he could just define himself so badly.

*

“Was the flight okay?” Amy Biersack wrapped her arms around her son a little bit too tightly, blame it on mother’s love.

Andy let himself be hugged and glanced at Matt above her shoulder.

It was winter in Cincinnati. They almost got their flight cancelled, because of a blizzard that was going to come in the afternoon.

The floor of the terminal was wet from the slush brought from the outside, Christmas decorations were everywhere.

There were less than four days left until the Christmas Eve. If there was no holiday spirit in Los Angeles because of the warmth, it was the opposite in Cincinnati.

The snowy town looked beautiful in the late afternoon even from the bird’s view. The lights of all the bridges crossing the Ohio river illuminated the darkness, just like the Christmas lights of the bigger decorations in the centre.

“It was fine” Andy replied and backed away from his mother to let his father hug him too. Meanwhile, Amy wrapped her arms around Matt.

“How did the tours go?” the woman asked, directing her words at the both of them, trying to start a conversation somehow.

“It was alright, I only regret we didn’t get to play in Cincinnati” Matt said, grabbing Andy’s hand.

Amy smiled politely or maybe honestly? He couldn’t tell. It terrified him he wouldn’t be able to skip eating though. He didn’t want to make anyone suspicious, so that Andy wouldn’t have to listen to his parents complaining that he was dating a freak. It still felt weird to him that the Biersacks invited them over, if they weren’t really keen on their son dating a guy.

They decided to come and see how things would go, though.

Chris opened the trunk of a big, off-road honda parked just by the entrance to the terminal, so Good threw the bags in and sat in the backseat with Andy.

Mr. Biersack got behind the wheel and placed the keys in the ignition. The moment he started the car, the first chords of The Prodigy’s “Breathe” started playing.

 _Maybe it won’t be that bad_ , Andy thought, actually looking forward to Christmas in his hometown. Maybe it was because of his twenty first birthday coming up? He couldn’t tell.

He enlaced his fingers with Matt’s and leaned against the backseat, glancing at the view outside.

The suburbs just by the highway exit first and finally the town. Old skyscrapers, built in the past century, the windows midsectioned with concrete. Their rawness made him feel… home? Nostalgic?

Looking at them, he missed something, but he couldn’t tell what it was.

Maybe they reminded him of his early childhood, something he should have remembered?

“So what’s up?” Amy asked, turning towards him and Matt in her seat. - “Andy, I told you this ring was a bad idea, you look like a cow in the field.”

Six rolled his eyes. He knew the piercing suited him, a silver ring on the side of his nose. He got it a couple of weeks ago. It was just that his parents couldn’t accept or maybe understand his style fully.

And he also took it a bit too far with the way he got it.

Even though it was supposed to be a memory of breaking his nose in Luxembourg.

_They were on a videochat with his parents. The Biersacks called to ask how their child was, claiming they missed him._

_”I’m okay, I guess, just considering getting a new piercing” - Andy replied, grinning. He had an IV needle prepared in one hand, beyond the webcam’s reach. There was also a bottle of spirits in the back to disinfect the skin. Pure amateurism, but he wanted to experience something wild._

_”You’re mad. Where on Earth are you going to get it?” Amy asked, shocked. Chris sighed irritatedly in the background._

“ _In my nose?” Andy shrugged and grinned. His hands were cleaned already, so he opened the IV packaging and put it out of the foil. He removed the plastic covering the needle and held it while Matt grabbed some sterile swabs and the alcohol bottle._

_”Are you crazy?! Do you want to end up with endocarditis, are you…” Amy started, but he wasn’t listening to her. He just grinned again and while she kept whining, he handed the IV to Matt._

_Good, having disinfected Six’s skin, grabbed the needle and pierced his nose._

_”See? It didn’t hurt” Andy laughed, showing the needle to Amy, while the guitarist put the ring through the plastic tube of the IV, before he secured it with a silver spike._

_”You’re sick in the head” the woman concluded, outraged and hung up._

“It’s actually quite pretty, fits well, I’ve not gotten an infection and it looks good on me. And answering your question, the Buried Alive tour ended two days ago. There’s no holiday spirit in Los Angeles” Andy replied, hoping to change the subject before his parent get into the regular complaining about his fashion choice and a talk about how he was destroying his life.

Amy sighed with irritation but forced herself to smile.

“How about your band, Matt?” she asked, glancing at the guitarist.

Good nervously brushed his bangs away from his eyes and smiled, hoping to convince this woman to like him somehow.

“We toured with Asking Alexandria in November. Before they went on another tour with BVB” he said. - “Too bad there was no show in Ohio, but we’re coming to Columbus in January.”

Bad mistake. Cincinnati and Columbus were like a hundred miles away and Andy laughed at him once for saying he knew someone from that city. Because the location of these two wasn’t that close to each other.

He forgot about it now and said it by accident, before he realized.

Amy smiled in response, but that was it. She turned back towards the front of the car and glanced at the road.

They drove through the city centre in silence. The streets were decorated with colorful lights and buried under the snow that lost its white shade and became grey and dirty.

It was almost completely dark. Andy glanced at the people walking down the pavement, in and out of stores.

He was home, in his hometown. Weirdly, despite the highschool memories, he was excited.

The year of touring was exhausting and he wanted to get some proper rest, just for a moment.

Even if family Christmas was always huge.

“Oh, by the way, who’s coming this year?” he asked, gazing at the snowflakes dancing in the lights of the car. It seemed like they were driving through a space tunnel, now that they were back on the highway. The Biersacks just probably wanted to show them the decorations in the city.

“Both of your grandparents, Joe and his girlfriend, Heather with her husband and kids, my sister and your uncle” Amy replied.

“That’s quite a lot” Andy said. Not that he had social anxiety, it was just that Christmas spent sitting by the same table with his fanatical cousin Heather couldn’t go well.

He only wondered if his concerns were justified.

*

Andy and Matt spent the next day decorating the Christmas tree in the living room. Chris and Amy claimed it was too early, but at least these two had something to do.

The time until the evening passed quite peacefully, excluding a couple of Mr. Biersack’s brickbats on why his son’s hair was this long, why ne needed knee-height boots if there was no snow in Los Angeles and finally, what actually musicians did for a living. Matt got some petty criticism too, in the form of passive agressive questions about how his new band was doing and if they could afford releasing an album this time.

Andy placed the last empty box in which they kept the decorations, on the shelf in the basement and wiped his hands on the fabric of sweatpants stained with glitter.

“How do you like it here?” he asked, glancing at Matt.

“Your parents are… uh… how to put it… one of a kind when it comes to showing sympathy” the guitarist replied with an awkward smile. - “I don’t think they accept you.”

“What? No!” Andy denied, maybe a bit too fast, as if he was scared that Chris and Amy would jump out of one of the decoration boxes to start a fight. - “I mean… I get that impression too, but… They’re my parents after all. They just don’t like my style, that’s it.”

“And your sexual orientation, your job” Matt loosely wrapped his arms around the boy. - “It kinda scares me to think what this Christmas will be like” - he sighed.

“We still have time to go to Florida” Andy said quietly, burying his face in the man’s chest. Indeed, they had this possibility. There were still three days until Christmas, they would manage to find an excuse. But Six didn’t want to leave his parents on holidays. What would they say? It would be a deadly offence. A self-exclusion from the family. He wouldn’t be surprised if they hated him for that though, no sane person came home for a couple of days to leave in the last moment.

“Only if you want” Matt replied. - “It’s going to be okay. It has to, somehow.”

“Somehow…” Andy sighed. He pulled away from the guitarist and walked towards the door, placing his hand on the light switch. - “You coming?”

*

When they climbed upstairs, dirty from the dust, both of them wearing worn-off sweatpants, it turned out that Heather, her husband and children had already arrived.

The girl, quite small, dressed in plain jeans and a coffee-brown jumper, looked at them surprised.

She brushed away a streak of her wavy hair, just like Andy’s.

She had it tied into a messy bun with a band decorated with a faux leaf of holly.

There was no sight of makeup on her face, unlike her cousin’s who was wearing eyeliner.

She walked up to them and stopped in front of Matt, reaching out to him as if to give him a handshake.

The man glanced at the cross necklace the girl- woman (she was older than Andy) was wearing.

“Heather Anderson” she introduced herself in a cold, but polite tone.

“Matt…” the guitarist replied, slightly surprised. - “Matt Good, Andy’s boyfriend.”

“I’d rather you said ‘friend’, especially around my children” the woman said, wincing. - “Homosexuality is a sin, but don’t worry, I’ve brought a couple of leaflets of some therapist that help curing it.”

“Does the therapy include sticking aspergillum up your ass?” Andy laughed, making Heather give him a horrified look.

“You’re insane!” she exclaimed, before squinting and glancing at him menacingly. - “Don’t. You. Dare. To. Say. Anything. About. Those. Heresies. Of. Yours. Around my little ones, do you understand?” she asked and the temperature in the room dropped like ten degrees. - “You should be grateful to be alive, but you’re only wasting yourself!”

“I am” Biersack shrugged. - “I found my talent, my destiny, like you call it in your religious meetings and I can assure you I saved many more lost kids with my “stupid words” - here he made a quotation mark with his fingers. - “Than your dances and brainwashing did.”

Heather looked at him in deep shock and Matt really expected her to cross herself, but she didn’t. The woman only turned around and walked towards the kitchen, chippering something along “Do you need some help, auntie?”.

Meanwhile, Andy waved to the five-years-old twins standing next to their father, busy playing with a teddy bear, but visibly interested in the discussion between Six and Heather.

“I’ve got something for you guys” Andy said, as if he just remembered he had presents hidden somewhere. - “Me and Matt met Santa in Los Angeles and he left some stuff for you” he smiled widely, before turning around and running upstairs to his old room that he now shared with Matt.

He opened the closet, filled with his old toys and grabbed KISS action figures, still wearing full makeup. His father got him these like ten years ago, but they had been lying here forgotten since he left.

He promised himself to at least try to save the twins from the impact of their fanatical mother or more… from the impact of her brainwashing methods in the name of… what? Saving her own ass so as not to ruin her reputation in this heaven she believed in?

He gave the figures a critical look and found the switch on Paul Stanley’s back. He hoped the toy could still sing “I was made for loving you”. And he wasn’t wrong.

A slightly disorted version of the song started playing from the figure. Andy grinned and turned the music off, before walking back downstairs.

“Santa asked us to give this to you, cause he couldn’t find you guys home” he lied and handed the toys to the kids.

One of the twins, if Andy remembered correctly, Tommy, grabbed Gene Simmons and looked at it fearfully, although there was a sparkle of joy in his eyes. Heather’s husband was gone, so it seemed that Matt was forced to be a babysitter for the past couple of minutes.

“Mommy’s not gonna like it” the other twin said, curiously glancing at the toy he was holding. His name was Timmy or something like that.

 _Oh, fuck your mother_ , Andy thought and said out loud:

“My mom doesn’t like my long hair and my boyfriend either.”

Matt, sitting on the stairs, chuckled, unable to hold it back any longer, while the twins looked at twins with pure interest in their eyes.

“A boyfriend?” Tommy asked, glancing at Good curiously.

“Yeah” the guitarist admitted. - “I saved your uncle from the tower like Rapunzel. She had long hair too. And now he has to love me.”

“Is it why you have the same tattoos?” Timmy asked, pointing at the word “Blasphemy” disappearing from Andy’s arm. It was still visible on Matt’s skin, he got it tattooed with ink a couple of weeks ago.

“Pretty much” Six replied, sitting next to Matt on the stairs and then kissed him on the cheek.

“But mommy says you’re just friends…” Tommy said, placing the toy version of Simmons away.

“With benefits” Andy laughed. He wanted to add something more, but he didn’t get to, because Heather walked out of the kitchen. She seemed furious at the fact that her cousin was talking to her flawless children, anger burning in her eyes.

Andy grabbed Matt’s face and kissed him quickly. They didn’t quite make it, because the guitarist burst out laughing which he couldn’t hold back any longer, but it surely made the impression.

Heather seemed absolutely shocked, so did Mr. Anderson who had just walked in, meanwhile the kids kept looking at them curiously.

“Are these the benefits?” Timmy asked, making his mother’s face go ghostly pale, like she was about to pass out.

*

Three hours later they sat around the table to have a family dinner, even though it wasn’t quite yet time for the festive one.

Heather sat her kids as far as possible from Andy’s malefic impact, even though he wasn’t planning on eating the kids, especially that there was lasagne on the table.

“Matt, you should have some more, you’re so tall, you have to eat” Amy said with honest concern, glancing at the small portion on the guitarist’s plate.

“It’s enough, really, we had…” Matt started and Andy interrupted him.

“Coffee in town. With whipped cream. They have it in Starbucks” the singer said quickly, because even though he wanted the older man to stop starving himself, he didn’t want to start a conversation about it around his family. He surely preferred Chris’s monologue on the piss they sold in chain coffeeshops.

“Fair enough” Amy sighed, clearly disconsolate and looked Andy straight in the eyes. - “You should have some more too. You look like a ghost, you’ve lost weight since I last saw you” she said, because Six didn’t have much food on his plate either.

The singer sighed heavily. In his own opinion, he gained a bit recently, probably because of the food on tour. The problem was he couldn’t convince his mother otherwise once she made up her mind on something.

“I’ll just get another serving later” he said finally to ease the tension in the room.

Amy didn’t seem convinced, but she went silent.

Six glanced at Matt, who was picking at his food. He could only hope it wasn’t because of the conversation that just took place. Even though the guitarist was really disappearing in sight and his clothes hung loosely on him.

“THE PRAYER!” Heather said suddenly, getting up from her chair.

“Are we supposed to pray to my mom for making lasagne?” Andy asked, making the Andersons give him a death glare.

“You’re insane” Heather’s husband said, getting up.

“Why?” Andy asked. - “The only person in this room who deserves some acknowledgement for the food is my mom, because she gave the effort to make it. Period.” he said, smiling.

The twins glanced at each other, putting the KISS figures away. Heather didn’t succeed in the attempt of taking the toys away from them. The kids got up and stood behind their chairs.

Amy glanced at Chris, as if she was asking him for help or suggestions, unsure what to do. She knew she wouldn’t win the conversation with Andy and she couldn’t force his boyfriend to say a catholic prayer either, not knowing anything about his beliefs. Right?

“Heather, sit down” she said finally. - “We’re not going to pray.”

Anderson, visibly irritated and somehow distressed, like she was expecting a lightning to strike her, sat down, forcing her husband to do the same.

“Atheism is a fatal road” she said, looking Andy in the eyes.

“So is fanatism” Biersack shrugged, making her raise an eyebrow in outrage. Six continued: “Look at yourself. This whole ‘religion’ of yours” - he created a quotation mark with his fingers. - “Is based on fear. You’re not good at heart. You’re good because you’re scared you’re not going to heaven. You believe in some fairytales told by so called God’s agents and at the same time you damn the same practises if they’re of any other belief, saying they’re stupid, pointless and wrong. And vice versa. Faith is fine, true, but not when you use it to brainwash other people. Not when it’s used as an excuse for someone’s own caprices. Jesus had long hair and he surely would disapprove of everything your faith has become. So if you believe He’s going to come in a couple of days, which, by the way, is another fairytale, because, according to history, He was born in spring and Christmas was only agreed to be a winter holiday because there were pagan holidays celebrated before that and people want it to fit into that. Just like every other holiday. Take it into account and use your brain, because God gave you free will so you can understand that blindly following others and going to church every Sunday so you can brainwash your kids won’t lead you to heaven.”

Heather seemed deply shocked. The twins kept looking at their parents, at Andy, looking for some sense in the situation.

“That’s enough” Amy said finally. - “I understand you have different views and every siblings, even cousins, fight, but can we eat this dinner in peace?”

*

On the 23rd of December, after two days of putting up with Heather and his parents’ brickbats, Andy got a mental breakdown.

He tried to stop it somehow, but it went too far when Anderson started a fight over a Tool t-shirt Biersack was wearing as the top of his pj’s. It belonged to Matt, he listened to all those fucked up kinds of music, but it was perfect for sleeping, so the singer “borrowed” it.

It was early morning, so he hoped Heather would take her tea and leave the kitchen, but it most likely didn’t seem so.

“How can you wear something with such an outrageous thing printed on it?!” she asked hysterically. Andy wanted to offer her some lemon balm tea, but he didn’t get to, as Chris walked into the kitchen.

“Heather is right. You and Matt are taking it too far. You don’t respect others, Andy. There are rules in this house. You can’t just do whatever you want” the man said.

Six felt a wave of fear climbing up his spine. He didn’t do anything wrong.

“What do you mean?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“You being a fag. You can’t destroy your life like that. We agreed that Matt came with you because we hoped you two would behave. Meanwhile you start a shitshow in front of everyone. You can hold hands in private. Fine, I’m proud of your success, but it doesn’t mean I approve of everything related to it. You have to accept it” Chris said and Heather smiled victoriously.

“Well, maybe you should accept me first?” Andy asked. They still had time to go to Florida, he knew it. And he felt it wasn’t just a vague plan. - “All my life you expect me to live up to your unreal standards. You never showed me any bit of understanding. Should I remind you how many times you yelled at me when I threw up, even though it wasn’t my fault? Do you know it still affects me to this day? Or when I was studying, back in school, you would yell that if I didn’t memorize the whole, I knew nothing? When I couldn’t remember a definition? When I wanted to be myself differently than you wanted, you’d start fights, get in my life with your bloody complaints. You’d read my MySpace messages. Phone texts. Song lyrics without my consent. And now you expect me to behave? After you called me a loser when I dropped out of high school? Fuck you.”

“ANDREW!” he didn’t expect to be slapped. He stumbled and backed away in shock, looking at Chris, but he wasn’t the one who hit him.

There was Amy standing by the man’s side, her hand still raised.

“Have some respect for your father!” she yelled, which was the last straw.

“Piss off” Andy groaned and pushed past Chris in the kitchen door. He ran upstairs, stumbling into Matt in the entrance to his room.

“Is something wrong?” the guitarist asked, hugging the boy and closing the door. He was worried by the sight of tears in Andy’s eyes and the red skin on his cheek. - “Baby?”

“Let’s go to Florida, please, we still have time, can we just go?” Andy said, visibly shivery. It was an impulsive decision, but he couldn’t imagine Christmas in a peaceful atmosphere after what had just happened downstairs.

“Okay, no problem” Matt forced Six to sit down on the bed and breathe deeply. - “What happened down there? It’s fine, no one’s going to come in here.”

Biersack clenched his fingers around his wrist, digging the nails into the skin to calm the storm of emotions inside.

“You were right. Back then, in the basement” he said, unsure if he wanted to talk about everything that took place one floor below them.

Matt sat down next to him and just hugged the boy. He was holding his phone in his free hand, scrolling down, looking for the flights to Orlando.

He hoped they’d leave unnoticed to avoid any confrontations with Six’s family.

He finally found a flight in three hours, perfect for them to make it on time.

He grabbed their clothes and packed them into a bag, taking breaks to hug Andy who seemed to be stuck in a state of a deep shock or affright.

The guitarist wasn’t actually wrong. The singer was sitting on the bed, tense, ready to confront his father if he stormed into the room. As if he was sixteen again, not twenty one. Besides, Christmas was ruined for him and he had no idea what to think about it.

Maybe it was just another temporary fight, one of many, but it was the last straw. To everything. He didn’t want to be forced to put up with situations like that any longer. To be called a black sheep at every family reunion. Or to listen to homophobic jokes.

“And we’re packed” Matt said, bringing the boy back to reality.

Andy got up, already dressed in jeans and a baggy hoodie he had found in the closet. It had the words “Cincinnati Bengals” sewed at the front and maybe he would like it, if he still was into football.

Sure, he used to play hockey back in the day, for a couple of months. Maybe he would be able to do it for longer, if the coach wasn’t a cocksucker who laughed at Andy’s tiniest mistakes.

So he left the team and was forced to listen to his father’s complaints about the wasted money and time.

“Let’s go” he said, reaching towards the guitarist’s hand. Good grabbed their bag and entwined their fingers before opening the door of the room.

The house seemed empty, quiet after the fight. Everyone seemed to have gone back to their rooms.

In the hall Andy laced his boots and threw a jacket on. He saw the taxi on the street, through the window, so he didn’t have to zip the jacket. Besides, he wanted to leave this place as soon as possible.

Matt grabbed the bag from the floor and opened the door, letting Biersack walk out first.

Six made his way towards the car and got onto the backseat, smiling awkwardly at the driver.

Good joined him in a moment and grabbed his hand, hoping this would make the boy feel better.

The driver started the car while Andy took the last glance at the house. He was unsure whether to run back there, get inside, but it wouldn’t solve anything. And he wanted to spend the Christmas in peace.

He sighed heavily, placing his hand on his cheek that was still burning from the slap and leaned against the seat.

The driver turned some music on, as if he could sense the terrible mood of the morning.

…Linkin Park was playing?

_It’s too late to love me now. You don’t even know me.*_

*

He didn’t expect to be back at the Cincinnati airport so soon. And yet, he was, both him and Matt, waiting for the flight to Orlando in an overfilled bar, eating chips for breakfast.

Well, at least they had ketchup in here.

Matt decided they’d surprise his mom and come without letting her know in advance. If someone else was going to come - there’d be just two extra people. That’s all.

Andy, positively surprised, noticed the guitarist was actually eating this time, instead of picking at his food.

Maybe everything could be right in the end?

Just in a different way?

He wanted to believe it.

If there was still any chance to spend Christmas in a good atmosphere, without Heather complaining about Andy’s existence, he could try.

Six leaned back in his chair, glancing at the tarmac now covered in snow.

The white snowflakes kept falling, but less than for the past couple of days.

Mariah Carey was playing in the room, the same immortal song.

It was… almost okay.

Better and better.

Andy grabbed the paper cup with his “winter” tea that apparently consisted of cloves and oranges, but he highly doubted it.

“I’m sorry it turned out the way it did” he said, feeling guilty that they impulsively left, even when there probably wasn’t even any need to.

“It’s okay, don’t apologize” Matt replied and leaned towards Andy to kiss him on the forehead. - “It just is like that sometimes. And besides, my mom’s gonna be happy. She wants to meet you.”

“But we already know each other” Andy laughed. Indeed, he had met the guitarists’ mother during Black Veil’s tour with FFTL last year.

“Fine, she wants to get to know you better. You’re really picking at the details now” Good rolled his eyes and brushed a streak of hair away from Six’s face, before taking a glance at the flight board above them. - “We have to go or we’re gonna miss our flight.”

*

The thermal shock from the heat in Orlando made Andy regret taking his warmest coat.

He threw it on the backseat of the car they had rented and got behind the wheel.

He was forced to drive, because Matt said he felt nauseous after the flight and wouldn’t be able to do it. The truth was, though, that his body, used to not eating for the past couple of months, was shocked to be fed with a whole serving of chips.

It automatically made the guitarist want to come back to his old habits, but he knew he couldn’t do it. At least not until Christmas was over.

Andy started the car which let out a low groan. They were supposed to switch positions, no innuendo intended, in the suburbs of Tampa, because from the two of them only Matt knew the way to his house.

Biersack got out of the parking lot onto the highway. The road was empty, illuminated with the rays of the morning sunshine. Six speeded up, just a little bit above the limit.

There was some pop song with festive bells playing on the radio, making the morning feel more bearable.

Everything that turned out to be a complete… misunderstanding? Disaster? Was left in Cincinnati with his parents and Heather who refused to accept him. Well, if they decided so, Andy didn’t want to get in the way.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked Matt, who looked less pale.

The guitarist nodded and changed the song, claiming that this “holiday shit” was so fake that “it was impossible to listen to it”.

Andy rolled his eyes but let the man play with the radio, focusing on the road instead.

Tampa was over an hour away from Orlando, but if he ignored the speed limits, they’d make it faster.

He chose the latter option and speeded up a bit more, while Matt finally managed to find some rock radio station.

Bullet For My Valentine started playing, a somg about coming home, “Hearts Burst Into Fire”.

After all, they, too, were coming home.

Pretty much.

*

“You didn’t say you’d come” Matt’s mother said, opening the door when they showed up an hour later. The morning was quite warm, even though the sky went cloudy on the way.

“Surprise” the guitarist grinned. Fair, he used to think he was never looking forward to coming back home, because he was forced many times to hear similar things to Andy for the past couple of days, but he realized he was really homesick this time. Besides, it was their last and only hope for a nice Christmas.

“But I felt you’d come” the woman said, letting them in. - “Are you trans?” - she asked, glancing at Andy who laughed nervously, not knowing how to respond. Did they just jump out of the frying pan into the fire?

“Yeah and he’s also a stripper at a gay bar every Saturday” Matt rolled his eyes.

“Come on, I’m kidding” the woman fixed her hair and lead them to the living room. - “Are you guys hungry?”

*

They decorated the Christmas tree in three, for the second time this week.

Then they hung the Christmas lights up under the roof at the front side of the house in two.

And then they fell asleep next to each other on the couch in Matt’s room, where walls were still covered in posters of metal bands, that had been there for the past ten years.

Christmas came, no surprise, the next day.

It was warm, so they could forget about snow, but somehow even Andy who was used to cold temperatures during Christmas, was able to feel the spirit.

The evening came faster than expected.

“Stop smoking so much” Andy said, pretending to be irritated, as he stood next to Matt in the porch.

The guitarist chuckled and took a long drag out of his cigarette, looking at the colorful lights at one of the neighbor’s house.

It was dark, so the view was impressive, there was a holiday spirit around.

“This house looks just like the one in Kansas that we liked” Matt said, pointing towards an one-story building with a flat roof and wooden blinds in the windows. It was white, built just where the two roads crossed.

“Do you still remember it?” Andy asked, surprised and rested his head on the guitarist’s shoulder.

“I remember everything, love” Matt kissed his temple and stepped on the burnt-out cigarette. The floor of the porch was tiled anyway, it wouldn’t end up set on fire. - “Also the fact that my mom always starts Christmas Eve at six. Let’s go before the borsch gets cold.”

*

Three hours, two plates of borsch with ravioli, a second serving of pierogi and gingerbread cookies later Andy was sure he wouldn’t be able to get up from the couch.

He glanced at the Christmas tree, where a couple of presents wrapped in colorful paper were standing.

He hoped Matt’s mom would like the set of teacups painted in men wearing swimming trunks which disappeared when you poured hot water into it. They found it while shopping in the morning and the guitarist claimed it was going to be a perfect gift, meaning that he had already made the decision.

Besides, Andy was worried if Good would like the present he got him. He really poured his heart and soul into it, even though the main thing had to wait until the guitarist’s mom fell asleep.

“Have some more poppy-seed cake, boys” Matt’s mother said, placing a plate with the cake on the table.

Andy looked at it, feeling the excess of food in his stomach disapproving of any more serving of anything.

“Presents first” Matt whined and got up from the couch.

He walked up to the Christmas tree and grabbed a box with his mom’s name on it, then handed it to the woman with a grin.

Andy looked at the guitarist, unsure, afraid of her reaction at the sight of teacups, but she seemed really happy about it.

Biersack forced himself to get up and handed Matt the present he got him.

He was afraid of the man’s reaction too. Actually, he realized he had been stressing about the things he shouldn’t be stressed about lately.

The guitarist ripped the paper and opened the cardboard box, smiling widely at the sight of the content.

“It’s awesome” he said, taking a handmade photo album out of the box. There were some high quality (!) photos from all of their tours together.

The polaroids from the times when they would hang out in town when they were off tour. From painting each other’s nails pink just for fun.

From recording Black Veil’s newest EP, when he was in studio everyday with Andy.

Matt still remember the sight of Biersack singing “Rebel Yell” during one of the recording sessions, looking at him with these piercing blue eyes above the microphone, while brushing the long, wavy hair, now parted in the middle, away from his face.

And all the photos from their pumpkin spice latte dates were there too.

At the very last page of the album, there was a song. Or maybe a poem? Matt wasn’t sure.

He bit his fingernails, to stop himself from smiling like an idiot and started reading.

_Do you remember all the plans we made?_

_Hope and praying for a better day_

_Tell me what ever happened to the love we gave_

_The promise that we both betrayed_

_And the songs we sang_

_The times we fought for everything_

_Tell me whatever happened to what I’ve become_

_The pain I feel for where I’m from_

_Hanging from the cross on 50 U.S._

_I’m locked in believing_

_Drinking till I’m lost and giving it up_

_Another day another chance to test my luck_

_Way out there they won’t care_

_But we can’t get out_

_We can’t get out**_

“Andy, this is… Thank you” he spoke when he finally managed to get out of the state of shock from the fact of how good the lyrics were. And how true they were too. Did it mean Andy trusted him? He wanted to believe it.

Biersack, until now sitting next to him in silence, now just hugged him tightly, relieved that the present wasn’t a complete disaster. Of course there was another part of it, but Matt had to wait for this one.

“You’re welcome” Six said, just because he had to say something to fill in the silence. He didn’t have any idea what to say specifically so it seemed like the perfect option.

“I’ve got something for you too” the guitarist kneeled by the tree to grab the last of the presents.

He handed it to Andy and sat next to him, waiting for the boy’s reaction.

Biersack ripped the paper and opened the box. He burst out laughing at the sight of a framed photo of the remarkable day at hospital. Some talented photographer saved the photo quality, took with a phone.

Andy, pale as a wall, still exhausted from the surgery, was holding a chocolate cream roll that was empty inside, between his fingers, looking straight into the camera, without a smile. His facial expression resembled more of a “If you print this photo, there won’t be much left of you, I promise.” With the full stop at the end.

Wearing black sweatpants, he was sitting in a hospital wheelchair, as he was still insanely dizzy.

There was a caption under the photo.

_War Painted Wheels._

Andy rolled his eyes.

_You could name your band like that._

_It would fit._

Sure.

He found a bunch of photos taken in the hospital photo booth right next to the photograph.

They were lying on a grey hoodie. The same one Andy kept stealing from Matt, because it was comfy.

He really enjoyed stealing the man’s clothes in general.

Six unfolded the hoodie and laughed at the print on the back.

_Fucking hoodie thief_

But wasn’t it true?

He couldn’t disagree.

*

“You asleep?”

Andy thanked himself for convincing Matt to have a coffee earlier in town, when they went shopping for sugar, because his mom ran out of it.

Now both of them were unable to sleep, even though it was almost midnight.

Everything was going as planned and it wouldn’t if any of them fell asleep.

“Not really, you?” Biersack replied and sat up, glancing at the street illuminated with colorful lights, empty at this time of night. The only sound they could hear was a bang in the distance, as if someone set off their fireworks early. - “Do you wanna go for a walk?”

“Right now?” Matt looked at him surprised. Biersack’s silhouette was barely visible in the darkness, good enough though for the guitarist to see the determination the singer had. He realized he wouldn’t be able to refuse.

“Why not? It’s warm outside and we’re not falling asleep anytime soon anyways. Come oooooon” Andy said and got up, not waiting for an answer.

Good sighed, amused and got up too.

He put on a pair of jeans and a black hoodie, enjoying the view of Six’s bare torso as he was looking for a t-shirt.

“Here” Matt chuckled, tossing a Limp Bizkit tee to the singer. It was his own. But it was the first thing he grabbed and Andy liked to steal his clothes anyways.

“Thanks” Biersack tugged the t-shirt on and threw a grey hoodie over it, the same one he got for Christmas. When Matt was lacing his sneakers, Six put his phone and a small box covered in red fabric into the pocket. - “Ready?”

*

The neighbourhood was empty at midnight. Only someone’s laugh sounded in the distance, as if the room walls were too thin while watching “Home Alone”.

They were walking down the pavement along a row of houses decorated with colorful lights.

It was warm, maybe around sixty degrees with a slight breeze.

The weather was perfect, even though more suitable for the end of summer, not the end of the year.

“Are there any alligators in here?” Andy asked, remembering these animals lived in Florida. And Matt’s mom had mentioned there were wetlands nearby.

“Not on the streets” the guitarist laughed. - “If you walked in that direction” - he motioned towards a line of trees visible in some distance behind the houses. - “Maybe you’d encounter one, but that’s really far away from the city.”

Andy didn’t seem reassured and he kept looking down a bit too often, but he tried not to show his concern.

They finally made it to the main road leading to the centre.

The residential area of houses ended here, but the street, decorated with light garlands looked so pretty they decided to walk down there too.

They reached the city centre, decorated with Christmas trees. The closed stores and coffee shops, quiet at night, made the place feel intimate, cozy.

“It’s pretty in here” Andy said. It was definitely different than in Cincinnati and not because it was warmer. True, it wasn’t snowing which Andy was used to, but somehow the place had the holiday spirit.

“Really? I think it’s pretty average but maybe I’m used to it” Matt replied and pulled Andy closer to himself to kiss him. - “Come on, I’ll show you something.”

Biersack grabbed the man’s hand and let him take to wherever they were going. For a second he got anxious that Good had the same Christmas gift for him, but he ignored these thoughts. Even if he had, what was wrong with it? The result would be the same anyway.

After thirty minutes of walking they reached a place that looked like a part of a summer holiday town destinied for renting the flats for the vacation.

It smelled like the ocean, so they must’ve been in the port.

For the same reason Andy realized the place he had considered the city centre, wasn’t it.

They walked down to the promenade, where they could see the other side of the shore, covered with skyscrapers, as well as the water between them and the buildings.

Yachts were swinging calmly on the dark surface of the water, some illuminated with round lights hanging over the entrance to the booth.

Andy stopped walking for a second, looking for the right place for the rest of the walk and finally made his way towards the pier, where boats were berthed to its both sides.

He was holding Matt’s hand and clenching the other one nervously on the box in his pocket.

He was stressed. No wonder though.

Maybe he was rushing things? Was it too early to propose? They had been dating for just a couple of months. Even if Six realized the guitarist was the only person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, the man could have a different opinion on that.

Maybe Andy should have chosen a different day for something like this? He didn’t want to ruin Christmas for them. Besides, if Matt refused, Six would have nowhere to run. No one wanted him in Cincinnati right now and he wouldn’t be able to survive on his own in Los Angeles. He couldn’t even visit any of his friends, everyone had left to see their families.

They reached the end of the pier faster than Andy expected. There was the dark surface of water illuminating the moon in front of them. Above them, there was the starry sky, constellations visible despite the city lights. Behind them? Buildings that seemed empty because no light was on in any of the windows.

The water collided with the concrete of the pier, creating smooth waves, moving the berthed yachts that bumped against the rubber tyres mounted on the walls of the construction.

There were crickets audible in the distance or maybe was it Biersack’s imagination? Or wasn’t it? They had passed by some bushes growing along the promenade.

“It’s pretty here. And warm” Andy said, hugging Matt.

“I like Tampa just as much as you like Cincinnati” the guitarist laughed, ruining the romantic moment.

Six rolled his eyes.

“Stop complaining” he groaned and grabbed the man’s face to kiss him softly.

And then he took a step back and kneeled on the cold concrete, taking the box out of his pocket.

He almost dropped it from the stress and it took a moment to open it.

He glanced at Matt who seemed speechless at the sight.

Besides, were there any right words for a moment like that?

“Matthew Aaron Good, will you marry me?”

Well.

It seemed like there were.

The guitarist shook the awestruckness after Andy’s words off.

He kneeled in front of the boy and hugged him tightly.

“Of course I will” he whispered, unable to stop smiling.

Six felt a wave of happiness he had never felt before. Even when they got their first record deal.

He tried to take the engagement ring out of the box with his freezing cold hands, to put it on Matt’s finger.

Meanwhile the guitarist seemed to have wanted to kiss him.

The moment when Andy reached towards Good’s hand, the man accidentally pushed the red box out of the singer’s fingers. Six dropped it and watched helplessly as it rolled towards the edge of the pier to fall down into the dark abyss of the water.

They stared at it in surprise for a couple of seconds and then burst out laughing.

“Oh” Andy said, realizing a proposal without a ring might’ve not been legit.

“No worries, at least you didn’t fall down there” Matt replied and grabbed Six’s face, kissing him passionately. This way Biersack was forced to lie down on the concrete, on his back so that Good could lean over him. - “It’s kinda uncomfortable to play with rings on anyways. Merry Christmas, love” he added as the sound of the bell announcing the midnight cut the silence.

The twenty fifth of December.

Christmas.

*Linkin Park - And One

**Andy Black - The Promise

Just a disclaimer: I always write my Christmas chapters according to how we celebrate it in Poland: starting on the 24th with a big dinner, borsch (or a beetroot soup) with ravioli (not like the Italian ravioli, but close to it, usually stuffed with sauerkraut and mushrooms. It tasted great, trust me!), pierogi which are dumplings stuffed with pretty much the same thing on Christmas or anything else, fruits, veggies, meat on any other day. Poppy-seed cake is also a traditional dish, as well as gingerbread cookies. We celebrate from the 24th to the 26th and these are 3 days of celebrating. There’s a Christmas tree, presents (also, another difference to what I’ve seen in the movies: Santa comes in the evening of December 24th here), all stuff like that. I just thought I’d include my traditions since it’s my fanfic and maybe someone gets interested in it or discovers new things, so why not :)

Merry Christmas and happy holidays, may your days be filled with love and happiness!

  
  



	12. But to get there means crossing a line

Andy stared in silence at his buzzing phone, lying on the nightstand.

_Mom._

She called three times already.

Did he want to answer?

After all of this?

Decency insisted on that, he was Amy’s son after all.

On the other hand, he didn’t want to give in.

She hit him.

Both her and Chris started a fight over nothing.

He didn’t understand it.

He did nothing wrong.

The screen dimmed and Six sighed heavily, wondering if he should call back.

Maybe his mother only wanted to wish him a happy birthday, it was the 26th of December after all.

But what if outside that, she was going to rant about his _shameful_ behavior? Or - even worse - she wouldn’t say anything so he started doubting his decision of leaving Cincinnati.

The mess his thoughts were in did not make things easier. Especially that things like this didn’t happen for the first time. He told his fans he had a happy childhood and that his parents supported him. It was true, to some extent… but at what cost.

The lack of self confidence was only partly a result of bullying. That did not last long either. Andy made some friends and started to ignore the bored idiots teasing him.

_Your personality is awful, you’ve got a filthy mouth, quit obsessing over things._

These words were still stuck deep inside his memory, heard not once, not twice, but tens, if not hundreds of times.

He didn’t know what to think, because back in Cincinnati, before he managed to process what happened during another fight with his parents and try to come up with a reason why he felt guilty for the things he didn’t - in most cases - do - Chris and Amy seemed to forget about everything and started acting as if nothing had happened. This way Andy was left with the feeling of guilt. If he tried to discuss the topic again, he would usually end up being the underdog, yelled at or talked over. He had no chances to defend himself, so after some time he just gave up on that.

He pretended to be the perfect son and faked it perfectly until now.

He did nothing wrong.

He had to keep repeating these words to himself, because his brain had already started to look for the imaginary guilt.

Maybe he shouldn’t have spoken so rudely?

But after all these times, he surely had a right to fight back, didn’t he?

Besides, he tried to solve the tension leading to a fight in a peaceful way, too.

Shortly after “We Stitch These Wounds” was released, when he came home for a little while, he would regularly get yelled at for only taking care about that fad of his, the band, instead of focusing on the real problems.

Trying to explain that being a musician was a real way to make a living was unsuccessful.

Andy kept calm through the whole discussion, not letting his blood boil. His parents? They were the opposite. When he asked them to treat him with some respect, to stop throwing insults at him, the situation only got worse.

He realized he wasn’t the problem. So what, though, if the real problem did not want to listen to him and reflect on themselves, thinking they were infallible?

Andy glanced at the phone when it started buzzing again. Amy wasn’t giving up.

He felt like he had to answer the call, but he didn’t want to do it on his own.

He grabbed the device and walked downstairs to find Matt.

He considered their engagement a really good idea and he did not regret the decision at all. Even though he had feared he would.

“Do you have any ciagarettes?” he asked when he saw the guitarist in the terrace door. From there, they had a view on the backyard and some trees in the distance. The same ones where alligators lived, apparently.

Matt turned around and looked at Andy in surprise. Biersack hadn’t smoked for ages, except for the short period during their first tour together, when he was quitting.

“I do, but…” he started. Six didn’t let him finish, he just grabbed the pack of cigarettes from the window sill and sat on the wooden floor of the terrace.

Good sat next to him, glancing at the singer as he lit up a cigarette. Andy choked on the smoke at first, probably because of the long break he had taken from the habit.

And then he answered the call, switched to the speakers mode and grabbed the guitarist’s hand.

Matt glanced at the screen.

_Mom._

That was a pretty decent explanation.

He entwined Andy’s fingers with his own and wrapped his arms around the boy’s waist to give him any bit of support.

Six told him the other day what happened on the eve of the Christmas Eve and Matt could only imagine the singer’s frustration.

Now he had no idea what to expect from Amy.

“Andy? Why don’t you answer the phone?” the woman’s voice ripped through the calmness of the morning.

“It was upstaris and I didn’t hear it when you called” Six lied, rolling his eyes.

“Well. Yeeah, sure” the sarcasm in her voice made Matt irritated. Andy clenched his fingers around the guitarist’s hand even tighter. - “I’m calling to wish you a happy birthday. Lots of luck, happines and less of impulsivity. You didn’t have to leave. I did not expect that of you. Why do you have to act like that? It only puts you in bad light. Did we hurt you in any way?”

“Well, dad started a fight over nothing and you hit me” Six said with a visible lack of confidence. Normally he would just give up on trying. If he was to confront Amy face to face. The distance between the two cities and the fact his mother was only on the phone made him more brave though and he didn’t stay quiet like he used to.

“Don’t be silly. You know what the ‘fight’ was all about. If you and Matt could behave, nothing would have happened. But because of your insolence and lack of respect towards your parents, you now have to face the consequences” Amy raised her voice a bit.

Andy rolled his eyes again. Matt noticed the singer had tears in them.

“I did nothing wrong. Heather started the fight, dad joined in and began to complain about everything he remembered. I had a right to defend myself and respond the same way. I deserve some respect too, you know?” Six said, even though the last phrase sounded really quiet and hesitant.

“First of all, learn some respect to the older people. We paid for everything you wanted for years, giving you money for every fad of yours, be it hockey or the band. I expect just a bit of gratitude for that. I will not let anyone speak to me like that, do you understand, you spoiled brat?” Chris’ iritated, if not furious, voice, spoke on the phone. Matt noticed Andy cowered a bit and went pale. - “Know your place, you piece of trash. You will not speak like that to your mother. Wait until I stop paying your bills…”

“As far as I know Andy’s been paying for himself for the last two years and doesn’t need your mercy, you fucking prick. He’s an adult so stop treating him like a teenager. And yes, he has a right to demand respect. If you don’t show it, he doesn’t have to show it back to you either. Fuck off and count your money if that’s all you care about” Matt said, before Andy managed to speak. Biersack looked at him shocked, but he smiled when the guitarist called his father a prick. As if some wall collapsed, some progress was made.

“Listen here, you… you….!!!” Chris threatened, clearly furious. - “No one has ever spoken to me like that and if they have, they got beaten up. Andy, as soon as you come back here…”

“He’s not coming back” Matt said calmly, grabbing Andy’s hand.

“He is! I will teach you some respect, you fucking brat, you…” Chris yelled. Six backed off a little and cowed even more. - “Besides, who are you, loser, to tell me what to do? Take care of your career that’s falling apart, you don’t mean anything! Be humble at least! You’re not even Andy’s family.”

“He is” Six said quietly, but with confidence and calmness. - “We got engaged yesterday. I prefer him to you. Thanks for fucking my mental health up. And D.R.U.G.S. are already more successful than you will ever become. Don’t call me again.”

Chris seemed to want to say something else, words like “Listen here, you spoiled brat!”, but Andy cut him off mid-sentence, hanging up.

“Was that okay?” he asked after throwing his phone on the grass, as far as possible, to avoid calling his parents to apologize because he was feeling guilty or to not answer any more of their calls. This would only make him feel worse.

“Of course it was” Matt said without hesitation and hugged the singer tightly.

Andy resisted at first, but he relaxed after a couple of seconds and clinged to the guitarist.

He really had family in him, a loving, non-judgemental family that treated him right. Even though deep inside he could still hear Chris’ voice saying all his friends would always walk away in the end and only the family would not hurt him. Now, a couple of years after he had heard that, he realized how manipulative it sounded.

He didn’t have any energy to go through everything that had gone wrong throughout the years of his childhood and adolescence.

He only wanted to get his shit back together. Start again.

With a person who really loved and respected him.

It was not to prove his parents wrong, but instead, so he could personally realize he could be happy, even if it went against their rules.

*

Why didn’t they apologize?

Why didn’t his parents apologize?

The growing frustration, mixed with irritation at the crowds and traffic jams on the way home, especially in Los Angeles, made Andy barely able to keep his emotions under control.

Any small detail could set the rage off.

Let alone Matt picking at his food again, when Six began to hope the man would finally start to eat.

“Fucking shit, it’s not that hard” the singer said irritatedly, pushing his plate away.

The guitarist looked at him in surprise.

“What’s not that hard?” he asked. He knew the answer and he didn’t want to start a fight, but it was too late. There was storm in Andy’s eyes, waiting for a chance to take the rage out on something.

“Eating, for fuck’s sake” Biersack replied, annoyed. - “What, do you think it’s fun to watch your fiancé starve himself?”

“I am eating though” Matt said calmly.

It only made Six more enraged. He had been unable to control his emotions for a long time. Actually, since him and Matt had met. Wild outbursts of joy, anger, even crying, when he thought the guitarist didn’t see it, were everyday reality.

“Fuck yes, of course” Andy rolled his eyes. He didn’t care he was acting just like Chris when he was furious. He couldn’t care less if he wasn’t able to control it anyways. And honestly? He wanted it. He wanted to fight. And to hit where it hurt. Somehow. - “Do you think it’s going to help you with anything? Make a difference?”

Matt felt as if Andy had punched him. For the past couple of weeks Six tried to encourage him to eat. He would say the clothes hung loose on the older man. And now…?

“Quite honestly, I just wanted to take care of myself” the guitarist said quietly, making Andy laugh.

“Take care of yourself? By starving? It’s ridiculous, you’re fucking pathetic. And your attempts to ‘take care of yourself’ didn’t work” Biersack said. The fire in his eyes was burning and it was terrifying. Matt started to fear the younger man, even though he was taller and stronger than him.

“Is it really so?” he asked, unable to believe Andy had just said all of that.

“Of course it fucking is. Are you deaf or something?” Six replied. He had no idea why he reacted like that and he really wanted to stop, but he couldn’t give up now and just shut up. To not lose self-assurance, he continued: - Besides, considering your ability to sing live, you must be.”

Why was Andy doing it? Picking on anything to not end up being the underdog? Just like his father?

“Should I remind you how you sounded live when you had pneumonia on the Sacred Ceremony tour?” Matt asked sharply.

Six bursted out laughing again.

“When I had pneumonia. You sound like that everyday. At least the label didn’t kick us out” he said.

“The label?” this time Matt laughed. - “No one has any idea who they are. You were lucky a bigger one took your band under their wings. If they didn’t, all your albums would sound like they were recorded in a shed.”

“At least the music videos would be of good quality” Andy rolled his eyes. - “Besides, no one has ever kicked us off tour. And I’ve not fucked my voice up after recording two albums” he added, oddly satisfied, referring to Sonny at the end.

“But you fucked up your ribs, nose, knees, should I keep going? You lost it at the start, having a screwed up heart” Matt said, just as greatly satisfied. If Andy was going to fuck around with silly fights, the man didn’t want to let him have that great of a fun.

For a second, Six looked as if Good hit him with a chair.

He already regretted not controlling his emotions, but he couldn’t stop now. It wouldn’t be in his fashion.

“I lost it?” he laughed. - “You’re never going to be a role model for the perfect emo guy, no matter how much you want it” - he realized his words sounded absurd, so he added: - “Maybe you’re not doing so great now because you never fit into the scene kings standards back then. Your band had everything but the image. I’m not surprised though. Even now you guys look as if someone took five random men to perform in a reality show and play together to see which of them fails it first.”

Andy didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean it at all. The words were only supposed to hit Matt where it hurt to make him shut up. And they did.

The singer grinned as the guitarist got up, not saying a word and just walked out of the kitchen. There was a sound of slamming the front door a couple of seconds later.

Six stood in the empty kitchen for a moment, before he realized what he really had done. The shot of adrenaline did not yet go away, but the feeling of guilt that appeared during the fight, hit him full force.

Just like the realization that he had probably destroyed his relationship with Matt.

He slid down the wall onto the floor and buried his face in his hands.

There was no point in calling Matt. He wouldn’t answer.

Andy had no choice, he had to wait for the man and apologize as soon as he came back home.

He hated to do it.

It meant showing weakness.

Six stopped using the word “sorry” as a teenager. He got bored of the constant feeling of shame after every fight with Chris and Amy. As much as he let himself just be rude to Amy, blame it on teenage rebellion, Chris, on the other hand, would often convince him that the fault was Andy’s, even when it was not.

The feeling of… remorse… felt strange to him. It only reminded him of his Catholic upbringing, when he was made to believe he had to feel the shame for skipping church or not saying a prayer. As if there were no worse things in the world.

How on earth was he supposed to apologize to Matt?

The man surely wasn’t going to talk to him when he was back. Andy took it too far.

He hurt the guitarist. For no reason.

He just felt like fighting to let go of the emotions bottled up in him. For the past couple of days.

The whole trip to Cincinnati was a mistake. He regretted he’d agreed to that. They could’ve just gone straight to Florida. Why didn’t they?

Six sighed heavily before getting up to clean the kitchen up a bit.

He had to find some place to be now, any task to do, to sit still by the time the guitarist was back. Or to make it through the silent treatment, the awkwardness that would come next.

After cleaning up the kitchen, he made his way to the bedroom and curled up on the bed, hugging Matt’s pillow. It smelled like him, cigarettes and bubblemint, cologne.

Andy was aware that he might have completely destroyed everything that was between them, his words weren’t just a regular insult after all.

He grabbed his phone, resisting the urge to text the guitarist. The man deserved some time alone to think. Six wouldn’t want to talk to someone who called him names for no reason either, right after the fight.

Instead, Biersack texted Jinxx. They had lived together for a while and Jeremy seemed like the best advisor in love matters.

Andy summed up the situation in the message and asked what he should do, before lying down on his back, waiting for an answer and counting the cracks on the ceiling.

After a while, the buzz of his phone interrupted his thoughts.

Jinxx responded the text.

“Just give him space. Try to apologize, show him you regret it, but don’t push things or force anything.”

Andy sighed heavily.

It wasn’t as easy as it seemed with the pride he had.

*

Matt stepped on the cigarette butt and grabbed a new one from the pack to light it up.

He had left home half an hour ago and he was wandering around the neighborhood since then, glancing at the Christmas decorations occasionally.

Andy’s words hurt, that was true.

Though the first shock had already passed. They were adults. They lived together. They got engaged. Fights happened.

They just needed to talk.

Andy didn’t control his emotions and he had to know that. He needed to understand not everyone would put up with that. He had to learn to control them. Emotions.

Besides, Matt was wondering where the sudden outburst came from and why Andy chose the words he did, even though he had been saying exactly the opposite for the past couple of weeks.

The guitarist wanted to come back to the summertime at Warped Tour. Everything seemed easier back then, during the first sweet weeks of their relationship.

But life didn’t work like that.

He hated the fact that he was forced to be the mature one. Unfortunately, age wasn’t just a number and he often noticed the differences between Andy’s impulsive thinking and his own, more responsible.

They just needed to talk.

But he didn’t feel like coming back home yet.

He didn’t want to burst out with anger himself, besides, he wanted to wait until Andy calmed down completely. There was no point in trying to solve things when Six still considered him an enemy for no reason.

Matt thought the situation was just an effect of the tension of the past couple of days. The tension between Andy and his parents. He never wanted to get in between the three of them, but it really felt like something was off in there. He didn’t believe Andy’s assurances that his parents were the best people in the world, full of patience and support.

Understanding definitely did not look like that.

All the more, he was surprised the Biersacks treated their child like that, especially that this kid was sick and needed their support. Matt would expect that if he was in Andy’s place.

Besides, did Six not mention once or twice that he felt like his parents were unable to understand what he was going through before the hospital checkup last year?

There surely was an explanation.

A fight wasn’t the answer.

*

The door slammed.

Andy opened his eyes, feeling his muscles going tense. He knew it was Matt, but he really wished it was a serial killer instead. He wouldn’t have to apologize to him at least.

The singer dragged himself off the bed and fixed his messy hair, then walked slowly into the hall.

The guitarist didn’t even bother to look at him and Andy wasn’t surprised.

Six nervously wrapped his fingers around his wrist, digging the nails into the skin to calm down.

“Matt, I…” he started. No response. Good didn’t even look up, busy unlacing his sneakers. Andy forced himself to continue: - “I didn’t mean it.”

The apology was not yet made, he couldn’t say it out loud, but he didn’t do that bad, it seemed, because the guitarist finally glanced at him.

“Is that everything you want to say?” he asked, getting up.

Andy looked down at his socks.

“No…” he responded quietly. - “I’m sorry. I took it too far. And I really don’t consider anything I’ve said to be true. You’re beautiful and I love you. Both of your bands were extremely successful. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Matt didn’t seem convinced.

Andy didn’t know what else he could say. Truth to be told, he childishly hoped the fight would be quickly forgiven, forgotten about.

“We need to talk” the guitarist said. - “Come on.”

Andy followed the man to the living room, where they sat on the two opposite edges of the couch.

“Where did that outburst come from?” Matt asked.

Six expected the man to start throwing accusations at him. Things like _You can’t just act like that_ , that would make him feel worthless and inferior. His parents had used these over the years, sometimes fairly, sometimes not. He was actually surprised with Matt’s question.

“I don’t know” he admitted, playing with a loose thread of his jeans. - “Maybe I had too many emotions inside? For the past couple of days” - he said after a while.

“There were quite a few, that’s true” Matt agreed. He had wanted to say something like _You can’t just act like that_ , but he knew it wouldn’t help at all and situations like that would repeat if they just swept this one under the rug.

“I guess I just had to unload all of this somehow. And I didn’t know how to do it” Andy said quietly, looking down. He felt embarrassed by that. The guitarist wasn’t his training bag to beat up anytime he felt like it. - “I’m sorry.”

He said it. The hated word he couldn’t use. And honestly? He felt relieved.

“You’ve acted just like your father before Christmas, you know that?” Matt asked. Andy had to understand it, even if he was trying to push the realization away.

“I guess I have” Six said. He only wanted things between them to be good again. - “I don’t know what to do about it. Sometimes I really want to dominate over someone, to win a fight. I know it’s unfair towards you” he admitted.

“Because you never won any fights at home” Matt said.

Andy expected Good to just confirm what he had confessed. And he was wrong again.

“Exactly” Six agreed. - “I really want to change” - he continued. Normally he would have never said that. Not to Chris and Amy. Not to any of his friends. He didn’t want to show weakness. - “I just don’t know how.”

“I think you have to build your self confidence” Matt replied. - “Well, maybe wasting the set time to yell at people isn’t the best idea, but at least that’s something, so we can solve it this way. And if not, maybe you really should try therapy again? Also, you have to learn to take the rage out some other way.”

“I can learn how to cook. At least I’ll focus on something else” Andy sighed, smiling weakly. - “Or I’ll start running. Just kidding, I’ll faint after not even half a mile. Can you teach me to skate?”

“Sure” Matt smiled too. - “I just have to find my skateboard first.”

Both of them knew the issue of the fight wasn’t solved yet. Andy tried to convince himself it was the opposite, but he knew well he was only fooling himself.

The crisis, though, even momentary, seemed to be over.

No problems ever got solved simply. Well, at least Andy wanted to change, so there was a chance for things to get better.

“I’m sorry again” Six said. - “I shouldn’t have said that. You already achieved more than I did. I don’t know where this idea came from. Maybe we should blame it on my father’s opinions?”

“Maybe” Matt sighed. - “Apologies accepted, now let’s cuddle.”

*

“I actually feel like sleeping” Andy said as another loud noise of the firework banged outside. It was New Year’s Eve, just a little after 10 p.m.

They were both at home, a last minute change of plans. CC was throwing a party at his place but they eventually decided they didn’t feel like going anywhere.

“Go to sleep then” Matt grabbed the remote, as there was a break in the top 100 hits of the past two decades that was on.

“That’s pointless. I’m going to wake up in two hours anyways” Andy grabbed a fry from the table and consumed it lusciously to tease the guitarist.

The attempts to teach Six how to cook almost ended up in the kitchen fire so they settled on ordering takeaway for the night. Fries, chicken nuggets, spring rolls and ramen. Because they couldn’t decide what they wanted.

“You’ve got a point” Matt shrugged and grabbed the acoustic guitar, because he couldn’t find anything else on the TV. - “Now I’m going to make you suffer cause you say I can’t sing” he laughed. Of course Andy didn’t want to remember their fight, but his words hurt the guitarist anyway, so he wanted to take his revenge. To tease the boy.

“Gladly” Six replied, sitting with his legs crossed and grabbed a spring roll from the plate.

Matt smiled and started playing a familiar melody Biersack couldn’t name.

It surely wasn’t the famous ballad about that Emily girl from “Dear Diary”, he was certain about that.

So?

“In Memorium In Advance”? Definitely not.

It wasn’t an acoustic version of any other song from the self-titled album either.

He was sure the song didn’t even resemble of “I’m Here To Take The Sky”.

So?

He remembered the moment Matt started singing.

_When I see your smile_

_Tears run down my face I can’t replace_

_And now that I’m strong I have figured out_

_How this world turns cold and it breaks through my soul_

_And I know I’ll find deep inside me I can be the one*_

He knew this song. Once, during their first tour together, he and Matt ended up lying on the top of BVB’s van, looking at the stars while the song was playing.

The rest of both bands went out drinking that day. Andy made up a lie about not feeling well because he hated clubs and Matt stayed to take care of him, as if he was really concerned about the singer’s health.

_I will never let you fall_

_I’ll stand up with you forever_

_I’ll be there for you through it all_

_Even if saving you sends me to heaven*_

Later that night, when it became too cold to lie on the roof outside, they went to a diner nearby open till late to get some fries.

It was fun, he remembered it, like it was yesterday.

_It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay_

_Seasons are changing_

_And waves are crashing_

_And stars are falling all for us_

_Days grow longer and nights grow shorter_

_I can show you I’ll be the one*_

Next time they listened to this song was back in Los Angeles. They downed a bottle of supermarket white wine after coming back from tour. Somehow the track ended up on the classing punk rock playlist. By accident? If so, Andy knew well he could blame the “accident” on Matt.

_I will never let you fall_

_I’ll stand up with you forever_

_I’ll be there for you through it all_

_Even if saving you sends me to heaven_

_‘Cause you’re my, you’re my, my, my true love, my whole heart_

_Please don’t throw that away_

_‘Cause I’m here for you_

_Please don’t walk away and_

_Please tell me you’ll stay*_

This classic song accompanied them at festivals many times too, even though Andy had never really noticed that. The music played between the sets at Download Festival in June. At Warped Tour, too.

_Use me as you will_

_Pull my strings just for a thrill_

_And I know I’ll be okay_

_Though my skies are turning gray*_

Accidentally, “Your Guardian Angel” became the anthem of their love that they first confused with friendship. Or maybe the love came later?

They could only guess.

All the times they went out together, scaring old ladies, painting each other’s nails and dying each other’s hair.

Long drives late at night, aimlessly, just to sing the songs out of tune - their own and of other artists. And this one.

And now they were engaged.

Despite the fights, despite Biersack’s impulsiveness and the contradictions that made his personality a whole, Six managed to find love.

It wasn’t flawless, but he didn’t expect that either.

_I will never let you fall_

_I’ll stand up with you forever_

_I’ll be there for you through it all_

_Even if saving you sends me to heaven*_

The first chords of “The Ketchup Song” announced the end of the advertisement break, but Andy turned the TV off. He surely preferred Matt singing than the old pop songs playing.

“Play some more” he asked. - “You’ve got a beatiful voice.”

Matt chuckled and started playing “Keep The Faith” by Bon Jovi, the same Bon Jovi CC did his iconic karaoke to back at Warped Tour the other day. Andy wondered if his party tonight was just as wild as “Livin’ On A Prayer” back then.

*

Andy and Matt entered the year 2012, standing on the balcony, drinking soda from champagne glasses. There were city lights and the night sky, now illuminated with the colorful fireworks, right in front of them. In the apartment, The Sisters Of Mercy played, drowned out by the sound of the fireworks.

“All the best” Andy said and kissed Matt, closing his eyes. The guitarist wrapped his arms around the singer’s waist and pulled him closer, kissing him back.

When they pulled apart, the fireworks still illuminated the sky, so they sat on the stone bench to look at them.

What else was there to do anyway?

*

“No jumping from the stage and doing stupid things” Jon said. He probably repeated it five times in a row already, but Andy didn’t care.

The Rebels Tour had just started, Black Veil were waiting for their first show of this run. The manager made use of the time to give them instructions (to yell at them) on behaving at the venue. He didn’t want to watch Biersack break anything again, just like last year.

Andy wasn’t paying attention to him. As soon as the man started his rant, the boy automatically shut off.

He wrapped a streak of his hair, now shorter, around his finger. The teased mess reached down only to his jawline now. He cut his hair the other day, after a long consideration. It was in a terrible state, dry, damaged and tangled. He didn’t really miss it, to his own surprise.

And he looked really good, despite having done the transformation by himself, in front of the bathroom mirror.

Jon started pacing the backstage room back and forth, still yelling about the safety during the show.

Andy unlocked his phone, wanting to text Matt that he was bored and if the man was up to some cuddles before D.R.U.G.S. show.

He didn’t get to, though, because the moment he opened the text app, Good sent him a photo. A picture. A meme.

There were three separate pictures in it. In the first one, a Harry Potter chocolate frogs card was shown. There was serotonin in the card frame.

The caption said that Harry (or at least that was what Andy remembered from the book, but he could have been wrong, he read it a while ago) found the chemical component on the card.

In the second picture, the frame was empty.

 _Hey, it’s gone_ \- the caption said.

In the last of the set of the three pictures, there was Ron Weasley himself, captioned: _You can’t expect it to hang around all day, can you?_

The meme was absolutely terrible and so unfunny Andy snorted with laughter before he could stop it.

Jon looked at him outraged and inhaled to start another rant, as the singer disrespected him.

Andy gave the manager an innocent smile and stopped paying attention to him, so Jon started to yell that he had already seen Biersack breaking absolutely every bone in his body and that he would not put up with it anymore.

*

Two weeks later Andy still didn’t give Jon any reason to complain, because he still had not hurt himself on stage.

The manager seemed to have given up complaining and would only look at the boy with disapproval from time to time, whenever he thought Andy was up to something. Or if he was up to no good, if you will.

Biersack leaned against the wall by the backstage door.

Black Veil were set to play after D.R.U.G.S. who stole the show now. Even though Andy didn’t really like Craig that much, he had to admit the man was perfect for the frontman of the band.

Owens was singing the third song in a row with the crowd that screamed whenever the man walked up to the edge of the stage.

Six couldn’t wait for the evening. He was tired and they had a day off the next day as the tour was ending, so him and Matt were going on a date after the show. A date in bed.

For the first time in a week they were going to sleep in a hotel and Six really missed how comfortable mattresses were.

He glanced at the guitarist standing on the opposite end of the stage to him.

The backstage was on the left, which meant that the other members of the band, jumping on the stage, obstructed the view a bit.

Matt didn’t seem like he was feeling well or at least he looked like that.

He got pale and was standing in one place for most of the show.

As soon as Andy noticed that, he realized he hadn’t seen the guitarist eat anything today.

The older man’s eating disorder was still a thing, an on and off one, it would come and go. He seemed to have relapsed now.

Six unlocked his phone to check if there were any takeaway places still open.

He tapped on the search bar and was about to type in the phrase when a deafening noise broke through the music. It sounded like someone dropped one of the instruments or the microphone.

Six looked at the stage and felt his heart stop for a couple of seconds.

On the right side of the stage where Matt had been standing before, Craig and Aaron were kneeling now.

Jon ran up to them and Andy covered his mouth in shock when he saw the guitarist’s body lying on the floor.

Someone made the effort to unplug the white guitar, so the noise stopped.

Andy ran after Jon with no hesitation. The small distance between both ends of the stage felt like forever.

The lights in the room were turned on, the crowd backed away from the stage.

Andy pushed past Nick and Aaron and knelt by the unconscious guitarist, tapping his shoulder.

“Matt… Matt, sweetie…” he said, distressed, hoping the man would open his eyes but it did not happen.

Nick handed the broken, as Six managed to notice, guitar to the tech guy and ran his hands across his face.

Someone asked if they should call the ambulance, Jon yelled that they should not and then changed his mind.

“Why did he…?” Aaron asked, grabbing Matt’s wrist to check if he was alive.

Andy sighed heavily, debating if he should tell the others about his worries. The rest of them were in a band after all, they deserved to know.

“You guys didn’t know he was starving himself, did you?” he responded quietly.

“Why would he want to do that?” Craig asked, surprised and got up. - “Whatever, nevermind. He’s breathing, we need to take him backstage - he decided, then grabbed the microphone and walked up to the edge of the stage, to explain to the crowd that the show was cancelled and they would come back as soon as possible. - “You see how things are, we’re really sorry” he said, but Andy wasn’t listening to him anymore.

_He’s breathing._

At least that was something.

Andy sighed heavily to stop the panic attack creeping in and to keep the tachycardia from the stress, in control.

The guitarist’s chest was rising and falling evenly.

He was breathing.

He was alive.

Six moved away so Jon and a security guy could take Matt backstage.

He followed them and knelt on the floor next to the blanket where the guitarist was lying on the side, right next to the opened back door to the venue.

The cool, night air streamed inside, a refreshing feeling that stopped Biersack from fainting from the amount of stress.

He was holding Matt’s hand, praying the man would open his eyes, but it wasn’t happening.

He blamed himself for not taking care of the guitarist, not paying enough attention to checking if he ate, especially today. How could he have overlooked it?

They were busy, that was true, but normally Andy would just come up to Matt with any food that had been ordered.

He forgot to do it today.

The man kept disappearing in sight and Andy didn’t even care enough to make him see a doctor.

Until now.

Six could only hope it wasn’t too late.

As far as he knew, when the body couldn’t take the starvation anymore, one’s heart could stop.

Or it was possible to lose consciousness and never wake up.

There were many possibilities and every single one of them terrified Biersack.

He didn’t want to lose Matt.

“Wake up, please, you’ll get through this” he said, brushing a streak of hair out of the guitarist’s face.

It was the last show on this tour. In addition, they were in Europe. Andy had no idea how things would work out.

He only wanted Matt to wake up and say it was just a joke.

Too bad he could only dream of it.

It started raining outside. Andy brushed more long streaks of hair out of the guitarist’s face.

The scent of the wet street got inside. A seagull screamed nearby. They were just by the sea, after all.

And then, the sound of an ambulance cut through the silence of the night.

—

*The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus - Your Guardian Angel


	13. Do you know what it's like to feel ugly all the time?

Four hours.

Four long, fucking, hours.

That’s how much time passed since the ambulance took Matt and Andy had a fight with Jon about the fact that he wasn’t going to come back to the hotel, let alone going to sleep, before he found out if the guitarist was okay.

Four hours.

Four hours of sitting in the hospital hall waiting for any news about the guitarist.

It was almost midnight.

Andy leaned against the wall, staring at the flashing light of the square lamp on the ceiling.

He was trying to calm down somehow, force himself to eat a bag of now cold fries Jon had brought him before leaving. He wasn’t able to, though. He didn’t feel hungry at all, even though he hadn’t eaten anything since the afternoon before the show.

The only thing that kept him sane was the album “Heroine” playing as loud as possible in his earphones. Heavier than “Dear Diary”, full of screaming filled with despair, it sounded like salvation now that he was on the verge of crying from stress.

He hoped Matt was okay. He also wished the man could get professional help for his eating disorder. Six couldn’t help him. He had tried for the past couple of months. It seemed like the guitarist’s relationship with food got better, but still… It was bad again. Very bad.

Andy sighed quietly and brushed away the memory of Matt’s 28th birthday, less than two months ago. Everything seemed to be going better back then. And then… Then Black Veil went on an Australian tour and everything fell apart. D.R.U.G.S. played a couple of shows at the same time. The touring routine took a lot of effort to remember to eat.

Andy wished there was a way to convince the management to book more tours for the two bands together, so he could take care of Matt.

The only alternative to that were festival shows, but Black Veil was not going to play any this year. They only had a Golden Gods performance in two weeks and a summer European tour ahead. The band devoted the second part of the year to the album recording, with only one show in the autumn, but they didn’t have to leave anywhere.

Six wasn’t sure how things were going with D.R.U.G.S. shows, but Matt had mentioned something about recording a new album the other day, so the younger man could only hope the guitarist would spend most of the year at home too. Oh, if he only knew at what cost.

Andy glanced at the opposite ending of the hall. The walls were painted peach yellow, so that the light-colored floor almost mixed with their shade.

The air smelled like bedsheets and antiseptics.

Biersack tried to control his rising fear resulting from his own memories, too - and he wouldn’t even care about that back in the day. No one told him to not get used to the normal life routine, because his body liked to strike in protest. Too bad he had it under control before. Or maybe was it just the childhood-teenage awareness of things? Or the lack thereof?

He took a deep breath and glanced at his boots. They were dirty from the puddle water he accidentally stepped in as soon as the taxi stopped in front of the hospital and before Jon managed to hold him back.

The manager booked him - and Matt - a hotel room fifteen minutes away walking from here. Andy was grateful for that, he feared the man would want him to come back to the States.

Not that the other musicians were keen on this perspective. They came here moments after Andy had, but the nurses kicked them out an hour later, complaining about the flu season. Six couldn’t remember if it took place in spring too.

He rested his head on his arm, glancing at the empty registration desk and the pamphlets hanging on the glass window.

They mentioned something about vaccines, childhood colds and flu, rotaviruses and not sharing your drink with others so as not to spread the germs. And there was a poster about eating disorders.

Andy walked up to the glass, hoping to find something helpful on the print. The whining sound of a guitar in his earphones annunciated the second to last track on the album.

 _Waltz Moore_ , the only existing song in this world that could convey pain, despair and frustration, self hate in every single note.

The vocals made Andy feel as if Sonny was standing right in front of him, screaming at his reflection in the mirror with helpless rage, how much he hated himself.

Listening to this song… hurt, the true emotions in it hurt. It was like crying, a breakdown, screaming into the pillow, filled with frustration, moments before it got ripped open, letting the feathers fly around the room.

And all of this served no purpose, because one was still stuck with themselves and the hate towards their own person.

Andy was unable to help Matt if the man couldn’t accept himself in the first place.

He could force him to eat, beg, complain, scream, but it wouldn’t do anything.

So how was he going to convince the man to believe that he was worth the while and loving? Things as simple as hot chocolate in the evening and as complicated as Andy’s love to him?

Andy glanced at the poster, but he didn’t find anything helpful there. It was just another piece of advice stating that the best thing to do when you had problems with eating, was to talk to your family.

Biersack rolled his eyes and walked back to the chair he was sitting on, wincing, like he always did when the song ended. The chorus stopped suddenly, in the middle and converted into the title track, still not being the part of it. It sounded like nothing, just a bunch of electronic sounds reminding Andy of the medical equipment beeping or the signal of an ambulance, just like when you took it too far, on purpose or accidentally and voices, hundreds of voices, incomprehensible, exactly like when coming back to consciousness.

Andy sighed and brushed hair away from his face, then fixed the black hoodie he was wearing. Jon brought it to the singer earlier today. Six would take it to every European tour, because it was colder here, but he never got to wear it, until now. He must have brought it back from Cincinnati and most probably slept in it in a car, ages ago.

“Are you the guy from that show?” someone’s voice broke through the music.

Andy took his earphones out and looked up at the doctor standing next to him, expecting the man to say anything, from the good to the bad news.

Biersack nodded, trying to stop the music, but he failed, so the chorus, playing really loudly in the earphones, could be heard.

“Your friend is awake” the man said with a smile.

Andy felt relieved, as if some heavy weight dropped from his heart. He only hoped it wasn’t anything that had been put into the organ over the years, because Jon would surely kill him.

“Can I see him?” he asked, not even bothering to correct the doctor about his mistake on calling Matt his friend, not fiancé.

“I’m sorry, but the visiting hours have ended” the man replied, still smiling.

Andy quickly calculated his chances of the doctor’s ability to catch him. The singer could run pretty fast short-distance, and the man walked just from round the corner, so if the door or whatever was there, was open, he would win the race.

He knew it was childish, but he had to see Matt. He didn’t spend the whole evening here just to go home.

“Depending on which timezone we’re talking about” the singer responded, then got up and ran down the hall, followed by the doctor’s complaint that he wasn’t allowed to go in where he was heading.

He turned round the corner and indeed, found the door. A nurse just walked out, so he grabbed the handle before it closed.

On the other side of the glass covered with semi-transparent foil, there was another hall, with doors on both of its sides.

Andy stopped to catch his breath, in case he had to run again and then made his way down the hall. The doors were transparent, so he passed by a couple of rooms with bandaged people inside and focused on finding Matt.

It didn’t took long, the man seemed to be the only tattooed person on the ward.

Andy pushed the door and smiled at the guitarist’s surprised face. Well, at least he was alive.

“They wouldn’t let me in” Six said as a greeting and closed the door behind him.

“It’s half midnight, are you even surprised?” Matt laughed, even though he looked tired. The white sheets did not suit him, making him look even more fragile and malnourished.

“But-“ Andy rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of the bed. - “How are you feeling?”

“Could be better” Matt replied, brushing hair away from his face. He felt like he was about to faint again and it semed to him that as soon as he got up, he would start shivering. - “Come on, calm down, I’ll live” he laughed when Andy sent him a scared look.

Six rolled his eyes and forced himself to stop a smile. He had to give in, though, because the longer Matt was looking at him, the harder it took to keep a straight face.

“And what about the show?” the guitarist asked, more seriously, actually quite happy that he fainted on the last, not the first show of the tour.

“Craig told the fans we had to cancel it, a couple of minutes after you lost consciousness. Jon took care of everything. The other guys were here too, but the nurses kicked them out. I was told they’d let you out in a couple of days if everything is okay. We’ll stay in a hotel. We’ve always wanted to live in England, after all” Andy replied, smiling a bit at the last part of his discourse. They were in Bristol, where the tour ended. Maybe the city was different from the rainy Manchester Six fell in love with, but it still was beautiful in its own way. Now that he was sure Matt was fine, he realized how badly he needed a couple of days of break.

“Sounds like a plan” the guitarist replied and sighed heavily. He wasn’t ready to confront the adult life, not now. And he was supposed to get used to it. He feared he’d end up in a mental ward, forcefully fed, instead of going home. He had no idea what treating an eating disorder looked like, but he didn’t expect anything good to happen. And he was almost certain there was no way anyone would believe in his promises to recover at home. He didn’t want to worry Andy, though, especially that the younger boy seemed exhausted with the situation.

“You should get some sleep” Matt said, concerned.

“Give me five more minutes” Six replied, fighting the tiredness, but he was clearly losing the battle.

“You’ll be asleep in five minutes” Matt laughed when Biersack yawned and almost lied down next to him. - “Come on, go home, you can come in the morning.”

Andy finally agreed, although recultantly and got up, rolling his eyes.

“What stuff do you want me to bring you tomorrow?” he asked, as he still had to get the man some clothes.

“My phone charger, if you could” Matt replied, glancing at the screen of his almost dead phone. - “Goodnight, love.”

Six kissed his forehead goodnight and walked out of the room, expecting to see security or that doctor, in the hall, but there was no one in sight.

He closed the door behind him, when he ended up in the main hospital hall. He passed by the empty registration desk and finally stopped in the entrance to put a hood on, because it was pouring.

The air smelled like wet ground. He could feel the breeze of a warm spring evening, the flowers blooming on the trees in parks.

Andy put his hands into the pockets of his jeans and started walking down the street, along the huge hospital building. It was modern, kept in grey and white, what he noticed in the light of the street lamps.

Was it safe to walk alone in the middle of the night?

Well, he hadn’t met anyone yet. He stopped by a building that reminded him of an Italian church. For a moment he hesitated if it really was a church though, because there was no sight of crosses.

He fixed his hood and noticed a board stating the opening hours of an art gallery. So it wasn’t a basilica.

Andy sighed as he felt a hunger pang, now that the stress and anxiety were gone. Jon mentioned he had left some instant ramen in the man’s bag, but Six would kill for something more filling.

He glanced at the row of buildings on the other side of the streets. The windows were dark, bars and pubs closed.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang, announcing one in the morning.

It was still pouring, wind gusts appeared.

Andy zipped his leather jacket up and started walking faster down the street, along sandstone building, passing by closed properties.

He was feeling colder and colder and decided he actually didn’t mind cheap ramen as long as it would keep him warm.

He finally made it to the hotel and pushed the door after hesitating for a second.

The receptionist behind the desk glanced at him, surprised, but she smiled quickly.

“Are you the one who was supposed to arrive late at night?” she asked. Six nodded, tired of interacting with people, in his thoughts practically begging her to check him in quickly, or at least to give him the keys as soon as she could.

The woman decided have mercy on him, because he didn’t even have to sign anything. He grabbed the keys from the counter and headed towards a narrow lift, following the woman’s instructions and hoping the elevator wouldn’t break from shaking all the way up to the top floor.

The hinges creaked as he pushed the room door. The floor in the hall did too, but he didn’t care. The inside of the room was cozy and warm. And dry.

He closed the door and took the soaked clothes off, then made his way towards a sports bag on a double bed. Jon (or whoever was checking them in) must have brought it in here earlier.

Andy grabbed fresh sweatpants from the inside and sent a final glance towards the street wet from the rain, that he could see through a small window with a single glass. The wind kept smashing the drips of water on the outside of the pane, making the wooden frame shake with every gust.

In the building on the other side of the street, on the top floor as well, there was a light, visible despite closed curtains. Someone else was up too. To the right of the building, Andy could see a glow that looked like city lights. It must have been that, it was too early for a sunrise.

Andy leaned his head against the glass, closing his eyes.

Matt was alive, he was okay.

Why did the emotional overflow make the singer exhaused, though?

*

Andy sighed heavily and closed the room door, then placed a bottle of white wine he was holding, on the table. The sleepy atmosphere of the late afternoon made him feel even more tired… of life? It seemed like he was at his mental limits.

He went to see Matt in the morning, where he spend two hours trying to convince the man that being diagnosed only with anemia and vitamin deficiency, as if the doctors treated him like a skinny junkie from a band, did not mean he didn’t suffer from an eating disorder. Andy failed his attempts, they only agreed that the guitarist would see a therapist when they were back home.

On the way back to the hotel, Jon called the singer, yelling to ask if he remembered about the Golden Gods show and that Black Veil were going to meet the singer of Twisted Sister who was supposed to join them on stage. Six replied that he of course remembered, but he also wanted to put the band’s return to the studio away for a couple of days, right after the awards show. He was exhausted from the tour and didn’t think he would be able to plan out an album recording schedule almost falling asleep while standing. The label insisted to see the general outline of BVB’s ideas before the summer tour, though.

The manager, of course, instead of agreeing, started to yell that sure, no problem, but Andy was wasting time in the UK anyway. Black Veil were going to start practising for the show just after returning to the States the day before. Six tried to convince him that unexpected events were nobody’s fault, but Jon yelled even louder that the band would get kicked out of the label with that attitude before they even release their third album.

The cherry on top was Amy who decided to call her son and ask him when he was going to leave that junkie and stop wasting himself by his side. Six gave up trying to convince his mother that Matt surely wasn’t a junkie and she could at least try to accept them as a couple. He only asked her to let go and interrupted her mid-sentence when she tried to give him a life advice sounding like “You’ll see I was right.”

He hung up and stopped himself from throwing the phone on the pavement, only because he couldn’t be bothered spending money on a new one.

He stopped by the art gallery and crossed the street, heading towards a grocery store visible in the distance.

And then, with a bottle of white wine in his hand, he came back to the hotel and that’s how he found himself in the room with a carpet on the floor again.

He glanced at his reflection and sighed heavily. He was mentally exhausted. Too young to take care of everything at once… Or maybe that’s what adulthood looked like?

He didn’t like it, this aspect of it. Wrapped in cotton wool all his life, he hated to confront reality. If Amy was here, she surely would say that was life and he shouldn’t be surprised. He regretted answering her call a week after New Year’s. It seemed like family bonds kept him in the promise of decency. And that was about it.

He brushed his hair away and grabbed his phone, his earphones wrapped around the device. He put them in and sat on the carpet, leaning his back against the bed, before he was forced to lean forward to grab the bottle of wine from the table.

He opened it and closed his eyes, letting the first chords of “Creep” play.

He was feeling… bad. So bad that he couldn’t care less about his health if he could get a moment of oblivion. He was going to get drunk, blackout drunk, to forget about all his problems. A reset? Something like that. Was it healthy? Of course not.

The stinging pain in his right side appeared a few sips down the bottle. Maybe it was just Andy’s imagination or at least he wanted to believe it. Besides, in that moment, he didn’t care. The only thing that counted was the taste of alcohol in his mouth, that he missed greatly. It calmed him down instantly, reminding him of the band’s first tours. The ones without Chris, of course.

Andy thought of the van that was way too small to fit a couple of people inside, so small Six couldn’t even straighten his legs inside. White wine, oh, the irony, on the roof of that van, with Matt. The spring tour two years ago was one of Andy’s favorite memories. Black Veil weren’t that recognizable back then. The crowd didn’t try to undress him, treating him like a thing, when he jumped into it. Customizing clothes from women’s section. He missed it. He even missed the stage fear before going on that tour, because they were going to support the legendary From First To Last and he feared they wouldn’t get along because of the age or the level of fame gap. He was wrong, luckily and if he could, he would go on that tour again. The fans’ innocent questions if him and Matt were together. He sometimes wanted to confirm it, later saying it was a joke. He must have liked the guitarist back then.

Andy leaned his head backwards, sighing deeply when Radiohead’s song got replaced by The Smiths.

He was a quarter down the bottle and he began to feel the effects of it. The room became warmer and he liked the rain hitting madly on the window more and more with every second.

And then the lust came.

Nine Inch Nails.

A feeling too heavy for his liking, caused by alcohol and the song. Not that he was into the vibe of the song, but he really needed someone to… take him like that.

He didn’t feel brave enough to ask for it. But maybe sex could work as a catalyst in problem solving?

On the other hand, did Andy really want to step outside of the comfort zone of his own thoughts?

He had no idea. Maybe when he was drunk, he would. That wasn’t informed consent though, so it was out of question.

The feeling of lust came back sometimes, but for the first time since the December tour it was that strong. Maybe music and wine were to blame.

 _Closer._ He wanted it closer, so close there would be no space left for anything, even the air between him and Matt.

How was he supposed to ask for it, then, if he didn’t want things to end like the last time?

Lately he began to wonder more often if he really was asexual. If he wasn’t, what he supposed to label himself as?

He never found sex with women interesting. Sex with men… He didn’t know what to expect. Maybe the lack of the need to make love this way was caused by fear? He would often catch himself trying to suppress the feelings of desire lately. So, was he just casually homosexual? Most probably.

It started pouring for good outside, the rain and wind kept hitting the window and in Andy’s earbuds, Placebo and David Bowie played a song so nostalgic that it perfectly fit the weather outside.

The song’s guitar reminded the singer of old rock music from the nineties, it was gloomy, grunge, decorated with double vocals.

_Without you I’m nothing._

Six sighed heavily and glanced at the dark clouds hanging low over the city. His phone buzzed, but he ignored the notification.

Right now, he really didn’t care about any of them, his family, manager, even his fiancé. He needed to rest, to forget, because the constant stress was trying to end him.

He accidentally hit the bottle, trying to grab it again. He never got drunk fast, but after a break from drinking that lasted a year and a half, he felt like it was his first experience with alcohol ever. The times of being able to walk straight after twelve shots of vodka were long gone. He was even able to get up without a hangover after a night of drinking back then. He feared it wouldn’t be that easy this time, but he had already downed the bottle in half, there was no turning back. Besides, in his drunk state he wasn’t that much worried about this amount of alcohol harming him in a serious way. It was just an one-off thing.

He smiled to himself, surprised at the sudden cheerfulness. He liked it more than being emotionally worn out, just like less than ten minutes ago.

If only he could be in such a good mood everyday, under so much stress.

He grabbed the bottle and drank some more liquid before getting up and leaning his forehead against the window. He was starting to feel dizzy, which didn’t stop him from stumbling towards the mirror while INXS was playing, though.

He grabbed his phone and took a selfie of this abysmal mess he was, reaching towards the wall for support.

And then he sent the photo to Matt, captioning it “Take me.”

He downed the bottle of wine, leaning back while doing it, which his drunk state considered artsy, with George Michael playing in the background.

A couple of minutes later he curled up in bed, overwhelmed by the sudden state of derealization, caused by alcohol.

The empty bottle fell to the floor with a thud. Meanwhile Andy was stuck between feeling high and sleepy, without music now, because the sounds began to reach him in a time lapse.

Just like the whole world.

His longed-for state of oblivion came. Alcohol inebriation.

*

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, ripping a plastic hospital band from his wrist. He was allowed to go home, diagnosed with anemia, vitamin defiiency and - finally - an eating disorder. The only issue was that he got told it was OSFED, not anorexia, which made him feel like he was faking it and had to try harder to get diagnosed with the latter. Did he really have to start eating then? He had no idea and Andy’s yesterday’s message didn’t make things any easier.

_Take me._

Too bad he didn’t feel like it. Blame it on malnourishment.

“I’ll live” Six replied, grimacing as the sunrays illuminated the hospital room. He was terribly hungover, on top of that in a state of an awful remorse for everything that happened yesterday afternoon, the selfie just topping the cake. At least he didn’t feel like throwing up, which was a good sign. - “Besides, I should’ve asked you about that.”

Matt rolled his eyes and grabbed his bag. He expected Andy to invite him for lunch next and he really wanted to avoid that. Even if he was acting childish. On the other hand though, he felt ignored. He had been starving himself for years, constantly for the past six months, he even fainted (!), only to get diagnosed with some OSFED. It was too little to convince him to eat.

“So?” Andy asked, more insistently.

“How do you think I’m supposed to feel?” Matt stopped in the door. - “I’ve hated myself for years and when someone finally noticed something’s wrong, that’s not enough.”

Andy bit his lip, wondering how to respond to that, but he didn’t get to answer, because Matt continued:

“I just wish someone treated that seriously, just once. Shame, no one cares because an ED is a teenage girls’ thing and, according to some shitty standards, I should be married and have kids by now. I’ve had enough of trying to prove the world wrong.”

“I do treat you seriously” Andy said, without hesitation. - “You have a right to suffer from an eating disorder. Really. Fuck standards, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Seeing a therapist to talk to them about an issue the way you see it doesn’t equal being forced to prove the world you matter. You’re not going to tell me that after all those years and everything you achieved, you want to give up, are you? You’ve broken through with two bands. Barely anyone makes that in the span of just a couple of years. You’ve got something to be proud of and you’ll beat the ED too. You’re not alone with this, I’m here for you.”

“But the thing is…” Matt sighed. - “You’re my biggest thinspiration.”

Andy felt as if the floor disappeared from under his feet. He had no idea what to say, he didn’t expect to hear something like this. Was he supposed to feel guilty because of it? It wasn’t up to him. He didn’t know Matt thought that.

Besides, there were two sides to every story.

“Oh, the irony. I’ve always been jealous of your six pack” Andy said finally. And it was true. - “Especially on our first tour together. Do you know how much I would give to stop being mistaken for a girl?”

Matt laughed. The singer’s words seemed to have poured oil on troubled waters.

“And now there’s no six pack, what am I supposed to do” Andy sighed, hugging the guitarist, whose ribs dug into his skin. - “You’re a fucking Slender Man.”

“Finally” Matt replied, kissing Sixs forehead.

“Always” Biersack responded confidently and clinged tighter to the man.

*

The fans’ screaming could be heard backstage. And the haters’ booing.

The club where the Golden Gods awards were hosted wasn’t big, but somehow it managed to fit everyone who came to laugh at Black Veil.

Andy had stage fear. For the first time in ages. They were going to perform with the singer of Twisted Sister. That band was a legend.

In addition to the stress, Biersack was exhausted from band rehearsals, begging Jon for a couple of days off, and the stinging pain in his right side that would appear almost everyday, spiralling, tickling. It wouldn’t pass since he got drunk in the hotel room. He could only hope it wouldn’t stay for longer.

Biersack fixed his hair and sighed heavily, grabbing a bottle of water.

Jon had been looking at him with pure irritation in his eyes for the past five minutes, since they finished arguing over the fact that Andy was not allowed to fight anyone in the crowd.

The singer claimed he had a right to defend himself. Besides, he really wanted to spite everyone today. The whole label that couldn’t really kick them out if they signed a contract for a couple of albums. At least that was what Matt said and he had more experience in the field. Andy wanted to spite Jon for not giving him a proper break. His parents, too, if they were really so ashamed of him. The haters, because they expected a shitshow.

Biersack wanted to go big. Or go home. He didn’t know if he dared, though.

“Do you want some fries?” Matt brought the boy back to reality and handed him the bag. Six nodded half-consciously and grabbed a few, leaving most of the portion to the guitarist who had agreed to recover. It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure, no wonder though, after so many months of starving.

Food tasted like cardboard and he felt full even after having a small amount of it. The heavy feeling in his stomach was something he couldn’t stand.

“Don’t smear your makeup, you’re on in five minutes” Jon groaned from his side of the room and went back to flipping through some papers. - “Also, you have to get your doctor’s permission and all the tests done before the next tour or you’re not allowed to go.”

“Fuck off” Andy rolled his eyes and grabbed another fry.

Jon sighed irritatedly.

“I’m not the one who organizes the shows” he said. - “Three minutes.”

“Like I really want to go out there” Six snapped and took off a sweatshirt he was wearing, because it was cold backstage.

“You get paid for it” Jon snapped back with irritation. - “You’re on.”

Biersack flipped the manager off and kissed Matt before leaving. Too bad Ashley had just appeared next to the two, accompanied by his new girlfriend.

“Did you really like this slip of a boy more than me?” she asked, giving Six a disgusted look.

“I was just curious” the bassist responded before attempting to eat the woman’s throat out.

“I’m gonna throw up” CC groaned, getting up. - “Move your ass or we’re not plugging your playback in”.

It seemed to work like a miracle, the offended bassist jumped right to Christian in a split of a second.

“I c a n play” he said, making it sound like a warning.

“I k n o w” CC grinned and walked on stage, accompanied by the scream of the audience.

Jake, Jinxx and then Ashley did too, so Biersack finally grabbed the microphone from the technician and followed them.

Matt stood in the backstage entrance, hoping Andy wouldn’t mess the night up.

The singer glanced at the audience and the balconies, as if looking for a target for tonight. And he seemed to have found it, because his gaze fixed in one place for a couple of seconds.

Matt dragged his hands down his face, not knowing what to expect.

And then, the shitshow started.

“Oh, I know you fucking hate us” Six greeted the audience and glanced at something above it. Alice Cooper, who had just introduced the band and was now standing backstage, shared an embarrassed look with Matt. Unfortunately, Biersack seemed like he was only getting started. - “The song is called _Legacy_ , motherfuckers.”

Matt whined when the lights dimmed and the sound of a bass guitar from the beginning of the track filled the room. It lacked rhytm.

_I c a n play._

The guitarist sighed and crossed his arms, waiting to see what else was going to happen.

It wasn’t that bad yet. He wondered if Andy purposely kept growling like that to prove Jon that his voice needed some rest after the Rebels Tour. And he kept looking up every few seconds.

And then the band reached the chorus.

The moment Ash shouted at the crowd to put their hands up, Andy quite visibly rolled his eyes, as if he was irritated and said “Fuck” right into the mic, like it was nothing.

And then things got even worse.

The boy kneeled on the edge of the stage and hit himself with a microphone.

“I hope he won’t end up being taken away in an ambulance tonight” Jon sighed, standing next to Matt.

“To a mental hospital, I guess” the guitarist replied, wondering what else Andy was going to do tonight and in the exact moment the boy lied down on stage and started rolling on the floor. - “Mother of mercy.”

It wasn’t the worst yet, a couple of seconds later Six let out a scream of a killed animal that was probably supposed to be a growl, making Jon cross himself.

Then things got even more complicated, because Dee Snider appeared on stage and Andy didn’t sing the first verse of the song, so that the chords were played without vocals.

For the rest of the show, Andy was running around the stage with a micstand, before finally jumping into the crowd.

And then the shitshow was over and Biersack walked off stage with no thanks to the crowd, just flipping them off.

“How did it go?” he asked cheerfully when he was backstage, right in front of the visibly irritated Jon.

“How do you think it went?” the manager responded. - “If you get kicked out of tour or the label, you won’t be so happy.”

“You should’ve given me a day off then” Six grinned wider and grabbed a bottle of water from the counter.

“Will you ever understand that music is a job like everything else?! And your whim won’t matter if you damage your reputation?!” Jon yelled in response. - “Ask your boyfriend if it’s fun to get kicked off tour!”

“When you don’t have a singer which you really want to achieve, making us overwork. So it would be your fault” Andy laughed.

“Grow the fuck up.” Jon snapped, outraged and walked away. Six glanced at Matt, surprised.

“He’s right, you took it a bit too far tonight” the guitarist sighed, making Biersack’s smile fade.

*

“Don’t fucking touch me” Andy moved away fiercely, as soon as Matt barely managed to wrap his arm around the boy on the couch. The singer grabbed a cushion and sighed heavily. - “I’m sorry.”

“Is everything okay?” the guitarist asked, surprised.

Six didn’t seem himself since morning, when he came back from the clinic after getting all the tests Jon had complained about, done. He came back wrapped in wires, because one of those tests took twenty four hours to complete and he was allowed to go home for that. And since then, he refused to be hugged.

Although quite honestly, he really wanted some cuddling. He just couldn’t force himself to and let Matt touch him.

In addition to that, another wave of lust was bothering him, this time completely sober.

The end of April seemed to be perfect, oh, the irony.

“Just don’t touch me” the boy said, leaning against the armrest of the couch, trying to ignore the wires going from under his t-shirt, damaging his self esteem. They were plugged into a device that resembled a hybrid of an MP4 player and a very first smartphone, hanging from his pocket.

Twenty four hours.

He was a star, not wanting to be miserable. With all the respect to his own life, Andy hated to be plugged to anything. His parents wouldn’t care about the topic, saying he’d live, that’s how things were supposed to be, period, but Six couldn’t agree. Since he remembered. He just never had the guts to say it out loud.

He pretended he didn’t exist, in silence, for a day each year, because then he felt… He didn’t know how to describe it. Vulnerable sounded like the best word to define the state of wanting someone to caress you, because you felt like crying, but the hug only made things worse.

How was he supposed to feel if no one around him - none of his peers - had never been through anything like that? It felt weird to ask his parents for support, since he could remember. It wasn’t a blood test when he could cry.

He was sure he would be able to take those days better if he could avoid comments and brickbaits. Were they supposed to be funny?

His mother and his ex could high five for calling him a terminator.

What about all those stories where the characters turned into robots with no warning? How was he supposed to feel?

That’s why he didn’t want to cuddle with Matt now, in fear that the man would… say something too.

“Okay” the guitarist got up to close the curtains, because it started to get dark outside. Andy fixed his empty gaze on the screen, trying to focus on the ads that were playing.

The boredom of the whole day didn’t want to leave and he really did not want to use his phone, if it could truly cause some disruptions. If his heart rhytm recorded as a random sequence, he would wave the European tour goodbye.

Some guy on the screen praised a brand of washing powder, making Six wonder why in cleaning products ads, there was always a male saviour bringing a solution to a worried woman whose socks didn’t wash properly.

Matt sat back on the couch and glanced at Biersack in silence.

Andy changed his mind after a while of thinking and clinged to the guitarist.

“Hey” he smiled and fixed the man’s arm wrapped around his waist.

“Hey” Matt kissed his forehead and smiled too. - “Any special requests?”

Andy bit his finger and looked at the guitarist in silence.

“Takeme” he finally asked quietly and pick himself up a bit to kiss the man’s lips.

Good raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“Are you sure?” he asked. Andy nodded with determination in his eyes. - “Okay, but we can stop anytime if you change your mind” - he added softly.

Six mumbled something in agreement and grabbed the man’s face, kissing him again and sat on his knees.

Matt chuckled, brushing Andy’s hair away from his face and started kissing his way down the singer’s neck, accidentally leaving a couple of hickeys marking the trace, as they appeared on his skin easily.

“You’re cute” he said when Six moaned quietly. He stopped the caress for a second and took the singer’s tank top off, to have better access to him and get the proper thing done slowly, so Andy could decide what was comfortable.

“Thanks” Biersack smiled widely and got rid of the top, so that he was now sitting in front of Matt wearing just skull printed sweatpants and wires stuck to his chest in three different places. It didn’t make the boy look any less handsome in the guitarist’s opinion, actually, he barely even cared about those.

He went back to kissing the younger man’s torso, but now Andy was lying on the couch under him. They stopped for a second though, because he wasn’t sure if the singer didn’t feel oppressed in this position.

“Come on, why are you being so slow?” Biersack complained, waiting for more pleasure, so Matt went back to giving him kisses, now on the lips, but only for a couple of minutes, because then he stopped again, making Andy whine with dissatisfaction.

“You’re so impatient” the guitarist laughed. - “I have to get some lube first.”

Six sent him a sad look, making the man chuckle and kiss him, before walking out of the room.

Andy waited patiently for the whole three minutes before Matt was back.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, placing a tube on the edge of the couch before leaning over Andy and kissing him again.

“A lot, but you’re being a bitch for taking ages to do everything” Six groaned. - “I want it now.”

“Patience is a virtue” the guitarist chuckled, but took the younger man’s pants down, which the singer also helped him to get rid of.

Matt took his t-shirt and jeans off too and leaned over Andy again.

“You’re not getting it that quickly” he laughed and kissed Six, while he traced the tattoos on the guitarist’s chest with his fingers, noticing his ribs weren’t poking out so miserably anymore.

“When am I getting it then?” Andy asked, pretending to be impatient. - “Come on, Matt, please.”

“First things first, love” the guitarist licked his way up Andy’s chest. - “It’s your first time and I want you to like it a lot.”

“Then do it already!” the singer moaned, digging his nails into the man’s back. - “Please.”

“As you wish” Matt laughed softly and took Andy’s boxers off, before moving his legs away, as the singer bent the knees. The guitarist grabbed the lube and smiled softly. - “Ready?”

*

Andy woke up cuddled to Matt under a blanket in bed the next morning. Last evening was awesome and he felt fulfilled, caressed. He wanted more and he was happy he got rid of the fear of sex, because it seemed to be all about that.

He had to admit the infamous side of his back hurt a bit, but it wasn’t going to stop him from looking for new experiences.

“Good morning, sweetheart” he said, seeing Matt was awake. - “Did you sleep well?”

“With you by my side? Always” the guitarist responded and kissed the singer’s forehead. - “How are you feeling after yesterday?”

Andy kissed him in response and smiled softly.

“I don’t want to worry you” he said after a while, glancing at his phone. - “But I have to get up, I need to get rid of this” he added, motioning at the wires. He couldn’t wait for that to happen. - “But we can shower together later.”

“Do you want more?” Matt laughed, so Andy nodded shamelessly. - “Fair enough, we’ll see what I can do about that.”

Biersack grinned and got up, then grabbed some random clothes. He wanted to be back home from the clinic already, maybe stop to get some coffee for both of them from one of the chain coffeeshops before.

He changed his t-shirt and grabbed a hairbrush to fix the wavy mess on his head which refused to get styled lately.

“What’s today’s date?” Matt asked, glancing at Andy from his phone.

“The twenty sixth of April” the singer shrugged. - “Why?”

“I have only a week off left before coming back to the studio then” Good sighed heavily.

“That’s still long seven days and we can spend every single of them fucking” Andy laughed. - “No, but seriously, I start rehearsals for the tour then, so you’re not missing much.”

Matt sighed, disconsolate and put his phone away before walking up to Six.

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked.

“You won’t manage to get dressed on time” Biersack glanced at the guitarist who was wearing only a pair boxers.

“Do you think so? Watch me, then” Matt rolled his eyes and walked up to the closet. He grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, which he was wearing two minutes later. - “And what do you say?”

*

Two hours later they were back home. They would make it faster if they didn’t stop for a latte to celebrate Andy’s perfect blood results.

“What do you want for lun…” Andy broke off in the middle of the word, stopping scrolling through Twitter at the sight of some tweets mentioning Chiodos. - “Wait a second” - he said, making Matt sit next to him on the couch and glance at the screen of the laptop.

Biersack managed to reach the source of the discussion after a couple of minutes.

The band’s Twitter posted a video, under which there were hundreds, if not thousands of questions if and when Craig was going to come back as their singer.

Andy raised an eyebrow and clicked on the link to see the “masterpiece”.

The video lasted shorter than two minutes, just a couple of takes of a house and a highway.

And then they saw a familiar silhouette of the bleach-blonde frontman.

“He’s not going to…” Biersack said just when a take of Craig Owens himself appeared on the screen. - “What the fuck.”

Six looked at Matt, who was silent. There was disbelief mixed with a desire to rip someone’s insides out with bare hands, painted on his face. Andy was almost certain who would end up this way. And he wasn’t feeling sorry for that person.

“I’m gonna kill that fucking bastard” Matt said quietly.


	14. To put it nicely, I hope you choke

“I’m gonna kill that fucking bastard” Matt said quietly.

It thundered in the distance, a strong wind started blowing.

Chiodos comeback video was still displayed on the screen of the laptop, even though now that it ended, the rectangular frame was filled with algorithm suggestions.

 _Korn, ‘How to cook pasta without overcooking it?’, The Misfits live in Cincinnati, The Sisters of Mercy and Hot Sessions._ The last one sounded derisory, given the tense situation.

“You’ll end up in jail if you do” Andy pointed out, glancing at his bruised arms. The top part of his hands, the insides of his elbows. The nurse had to stab him with a needle a couple of times, as the blood refused to run.

He didn’t know what to tell Matt. Was it better to cheer the guitarist up or incite him to break Craig’s pretty face?

Andy had no idea.

“But in good faith” Matt smiled mournfully and looked at the clouds cumulating on the sky outside. - “No, but seriously, should I drive to his place or is it better to call him first?”

Andy sighed before answering. He didn’t know what he would do if he was in the older man’s shoes.

“Honestly…” he began and glanced at the dark clouds above the city too. - “He deserves to be paid a visit after something like that. Because he’s not let you guys know, right?” - the guitarist nodded in response. - “On the other hand, maybe it’s better if you all go to his place together, so it’s best to talk to the others first before calling Craig. Nick and Aaron can always come here” he suggested finally.

Matt didn’t respond. He glanced at the laptop and then grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the window sill and walked outside, to the balkony, for a smoke.

The freezing wind got inside the moment the guitarist opened the glass door. A storm was about to come, a lightning flashed in the clouds.

Andy sighed, watching as Matt leaned against the concrete railing, drawing on his cigarette, staring at the darkening sky.

He wanted to give the man some support, but the truth was he couldn’t really do anything except for just being there.

The end of D.R.U.G.S. was something unreal, they couldn’t just break up. Not after the amount of times the future of all the bands Matt had been in, was in question.

It broke Andy’s heart to think how much work the guitarist had put into the existence of Destroy Rebuild. Just like the other members. Why couldn’t Craig appreciate it? Why did he come back to the band that kicked him out? Could he even think straight, did he have any bits of decency? Biersack doubted it.

Matt sighed and brushed the cigarette ash to the terra cotta floor. It thundered in the distance, a lightning cut the sky. The cold wind was growing stronger.

The guitarist glanced at the screen of his phone, at the band’s group conversation. Aaron and Nick agreed with him - Craig was a piece of shit.

The aforementioned singer had not responded yet, but he didn’t really have to anyway. The message from the drummer - Aaron - left him without a choice.

_We’re coming for you, fucker._

Owens could hide behind loads of work, not feeling well, anything - they didn’t care. They knew where he lived.

The guitarist put out his cigarette and placed it in the ashtray on the floor. Then he grabbed it and brought it inside, so the wind wouldn’t carry it.

“And what’s up?” Andy glanced at him hesitantly. Matt wasn’t an impulsive person, he wasn’t even conflictual, but Six had to admit that the man looked terrifying with the darkening sky and the curtain torn by wind behind him. Just like the day he beat Ashley up at the end of Warped Tour.

“We’re going to visit Craig” the guitarist replied and placed the ashtray on the window sill, before closing the door behind him, as the wind howled in disagreement.

“There’s going to be a storm soon, it’s a bad idea” Andy bit his bottom lip, worried. It seemed like the thunderstorm would be strong and he didn’t want anything to happen to Matt.

“Of course there’s going to be” Good gave him an innocent smile. - “I’ve got this. I’ve survived tornadoes, I can’t be afraid of a storm.”

Six rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“You’re insane” he said.

“And that’s why you love me” Matt kissed his forehead and grabbed a hoodie from the sofa. - “I’m going to beat that motherfucker up, I’ll be back in the evening” he added in a more serious tone and passed Biersack by. The boy sighed heavily, worried, as the door slammed behind the guitarist.

*

Andy sat on the short wall, or fence, if you will, in front of the building. The concrete was still a bit moisty, but the storm was already gone, just as soon as it appeared.

The dark clouds were still hanging above the city, just a little over the roofs of the buildings, navy blue and heavy. For some reason, Six felt much better during a weather like this, compared to the sunny days. It was… calmer? Or maybe he wasn’t really fond of the sun, as if it made him tired in the long run? Or perharps he just was a vampire.

It still thundered in the distance from time to time, but at least the air got cooler, so it was not so dense that one could cut it with a knife anymore.

The boy lit up a cigarette he had already placed in his mouth. He shouldn’t be smoking, but he picked up the unhealthy habit from Matt and couldn’t do without cigarettes once in a while.

He took a deep drag and exhaled the smoke as soon as possible, hoping this way it wouldn’t poison his body that much.

And then he glanced at the phone screen, at the photo with Matt that he had set as a wallpaper. They took it at Warped Tour, one evening, he was kissing Good on the cheek with his eyes closed, D.R.U.G.S. tour bus visible in the distance.

And now it all fell apart, so suddenly, without a warning.

The band which, it seemed, had the potential to make it big in the long run. They were a combination of many well known groups.

Andy fixed the apartment keys in his pocket and glanced at the sky. He remembered watching _Rise From The Ashes._ The musicians in the videos really behaved as if they were close to each other. The truth was though, that Andy noticed some moments in which that seemed fake, as soon as Craig appeared. He also got an impression that everyone else was there to follow the blonde man’s orders. He was probably wrong, his paranoia just acting up, supported by a personal prejudice towards the older singer. Nevertheless, words like “He just gave me an opportunity to do something” or similar, sounded very bad. Six felt like there was some sort of inequality between the band members. And even though, they had spent Thanksgiving together. The episode, it seemed, had a home-like atmosphere. Literally and as a metaphor.

So why did all of this happen, how much did Craig really care about the band if he got back to his older one as soon as he could? Without decency, he got kicked out of it first, after all.

Andy would never do that.

Even if he was going to end up homeless because of it.

If Craig truly gave up on D.R.U.G.S. to rejoin Chiodos, Andy hoped Aaron, Nick and Matt would be able to continue without him. He was even ready to help them find a new singer. Jake could sing pretty well and was of similar age, he could suggest that. Unless it excluded touring together, as Pitts would be exhausted, playing two shows in a row each night.

Biersack stepped on the cigarette butt and looked up, when a familiar car stopped some feet away.

It belonged to Nick who drove Matt home. Andy didn’t notice the man had picked the guitarist up earlier.

Good got out of the car and pulled his hood up, before making his way towards the skyscraper.

He turned around on the way and waved Martin goodbye.

Then his eyes met Andy’s who stopped breathing for a second.

The front of the guitarist’s hoodie was stained with blood dripping from his injured face. Wounds on his eyebrow and lips, topped with a nosebleed, didn’t look good. What was worse though, was that Matt smiled at Andy, which gave him a horrific appearance.

“What happened to you?” Six got up from where he was sitting and ran up to the man. - “You look terrible.”

“Thanks” Matt rolled his eyes, playing with a blooded tissue in his hand. - “Craig couldn’t understand things the nice way, so we had to explain it to him with no uncertain terms. It’s not my fault his mother-in-law bequeathed him some fucking brass lamp he used in defense.”

“Is he even married?” Andy asked, handing the guitarist a clean tissue he found in his pocket. - “Let’s go inside, I need to dress your wounds.”

“I don’t know if he is, I don’t think so, who would want to date him anyway” Good replied lightly, following Six inside the building. They passed by a neighbour from fourth floor, who glanced at the guitarist’s face with concern, but he gave her an innocent smile. She didn’t seem convinced, but at least she stayed quiet about it.

They walked inside the building and headed towards the lift.

“Okay, so explain this to me, from the beginning to the end: Was Craig the cause of what the fuck happened to you?” Andy asked, leaning against the wall, when the door closed with a soft hiss.

“Kind of. I mean, Aaron started. I’m not surprised though, Craig is a prick. We tried to get things sorted the nice way, to ask him why he decided to come back to Chiodos, but he ignored us, claiming they’re more important than D.R.U.G.S. Nevermind that he said the opposite thing a couple of months ago. Then he said and it’s a quote: _We’re a bunch of losers who can’t do anything and he’s not going to waste his time on us for that reason. Besides, how dared I faint during h i s show, it was so disrespectful._ So Aaron got pissed and beat him up. We had to help him, you can’t leave a friend in need. Craig won’t look good enough to go outside for the next couple of weeks. Karma, bitch” Matt explained with a smile. - “He’s not left D.R.U.G.S. yet legally and he can’t just do it overnight as a frontman, so we’re going to leave instead. It will ruin his reputation and that’s enough.”

The guitarist seemed to be in a surprisingly good mood, given that he just lost (another) band.

“But what about you guys? What are you going to do for a living then? I don’t think it’s responsible to drop your main source of income overnight” Andy said hesitantly. The decision seemed irresponsible to him. Maybe Matt had a concussion and was hallucinating?

“Babe…” the guitarist grinned. - “I’m a producer, I won’t end up without a job.”

Andy rolled his eyes.

“Do you think it’s going to be easy to switch to sitting in the studio all day after touring for ten years?” he asked with disbelief.

Matt sighed.

“A few weeks, if not months, will pass before things get sorted. Maybe we’ll be able to get rid of Craig and save the band. If not, how many times have I started over already? It’s not an issue” he replied.

Biersack was struck by this childish naivety and optimism of the man. His faith that things could get better. He would often bring Matt back to reality if his ideas went too far away, but he couldn’t do it this time. Besides, maybe the guitarist was right? He had been in the music industry longer than Six, he surely had bigger experience.

The lift door opened with a hiss, so they got out if it and walked towards the apartment.

Andy forced Matt into the bathroom there and began to clean the wounds on his face. The cuts were shallow, thankfully. He feared they’d end up in a hospital to get stitches for the guitarist.

He gathered the trash from the bandages and the peroxide water from the sink, before kissing Matt’s forehead. He looked a lot better with his wounds dressed.

“Do you want some hot chocolate?” the singer asked, surprised when the man nodded, smiling, for the first time in ages.

*

Another storm came at daybreak.

Andy woke up around four in the morning, just for a moment, by the sound of thunders, but after a couple of minutes he clinged tighter to Matt and fell back asleep. The guitarist wrapped his arm around Biersack and closed his eyes, waiting for the storm to pass. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, besides, his sleeping pattern was terrible, blame it on ED. Insomnia got him.

He was hoping recovery would be easy, but it turned out to be worse than he had thought.

Finally, he decided he wouldn’t be able to stand his own mind if he was unable to drown the intrusive thoughts out. Playing guitar didn’t help, besides, who was he kidding - he couldn’t even look at it since the previous day, it only made him feel worse. D.R.U.G.S. was over, they were going to post the statement about leaving the band in a couple of hours. Him, Nick and Aaron. This way, Craig was left with no musician and Matt tried to cheer himself up thinking the singer would be forced to give up, because he wouldn’t be able to play all the instruments at once anyways.

He stopped himself from smashing the guitar he’d played most of the band’s shows, into pieces.

He promised himself to do it if the last resort - running - didn’t help him escape reality.

He was going to start today, he only had to wait for the storm to quieten down.

He kissed Andy’s forehead and fixed the blanket on the boy. Six didn’t have to know Matt was going to overdo himself, especially that the doctors forbade him to do any sports, at least for now.

When the lightnings stopped flashing in the sky through the closed blinds, he got out of Biersack’s arms. It only thundered in distance, the storm was gone.

Matt grabbed a pair of sweatpants and his headphones, before leaving the apartment and running downstairs, in hope that he wouldn’t wake the neighbors up.

*

Andy woke up a few hours later. It was bright outside, despite the downpour. It started raining half an hour before he got up. Matt wasn’t home. Six got worried at first, but then he noticed a piece of paper on the bed, saying the man left and would be back before breakfast.

Andy opened the blinds and walked to the kitchen, wearing just pants.

Holding a glass of water, he stood by the window and glanced at the street visible below.

He shook his head when he saw soaked Matt down there. The poor man forgot his jacket again.

Andy placed the glass on the counter and went to put a t-shirt on.

He barely managed to squeeze into a KISS tank top, cursing the tracings of glue from the plasters on his chest, that wouldn’t wash off, when the door slammed.

Biersack stood in the bedroom door, glancing at winded Matt, water dripping from his soaked clothes.

“Where were you?” he asked, noticing the guitarist was wearing sweatpants and running shoes. - “Oh fuck no, you didn’t…” he choked out with disbelief. He hoped things would be alright. He shouldn’t have believed the man’s optimism yesterday.

“I went here and there” Matt took his soaked t-shirt off and placed it on the radiator by the door. - “Why?”

Andy sighed heavily, trying to keep his emotions under control. He didn’t want to start the morning with a fight. Even if Matt shouldn’t have gone running.

“You know well why” Andy said with irritation and followed the guitarist to the bathroom. The man got rid of the rest of his clothes and wrapped a towel around himself.

“Do I?” he asked, grabbing a dry t-shirt from the cloth railing.

Andy rolled his eyes and took a deep breath to stay in control.

“You’re overdoing yourself” he said calmly, to get things straight.

Matt tugged on a pair of jeans and gave him a surprised look.

“Since when is running considered overdoing?” he asked. He clearly pretended not to see his fault, which got on Biersack’s nerves even more.

“Since you have been doing it, knowing well you should not. Get better first, I don’t want to lose you, for fuck’s sake” Andy took a step backwards, so both of them could leave the bathroom.

“You’re not going to lose me” Matt sighed heavily and passed by the boy. - “What do you want for breakfast?” he asked, like nothing happened.

Biersack clenched his fingers tightly around his forearm. Helplessness was driving him crazy.

“You” he said, raising his voice. - “I can’t watch you destroy yourself. It has an impact on me too, you know? Do you even care about it? You fucking selfish cunt, just like all the anorexics! The only thing that bothers you is how many calories you ate. It does not matter, trust me! You’re fucked up, how old are you?”

“And you?” Matt sent him a look of disdain. Andy saw it once in his life. In “The Latest Plague” music video, ages ago. It hurt. - “You’re twenty one years old and you’re acting like a spoiled brat. Your parents kept you wrapped in cotton wool, so now you need constant attention. And if someone’s not giving it to you, your self-esteem drops. Fucking narcissist. Remind me why do I date you?

“Why do I date you…” Six rolled his eyes, hoping the guitarist did not see his tears. The last words hurt like never before. - “An egoistical loser and…”

“A fucking antisocial freak” Matt cut him off. - “I date you because I love you! Why can’t you understand this is the only way I can get through all of this?! That only when I overdo myself, my own thoughts won’t consume me,” he swayed, taking a step forward. - “That it’s going to get better, but things had to be the way they are today for now?! Why can’t you see life from my perspective?! Because your band is doing well? If you rip off Motley Crue, there’s so much to be fucking proud of. You’re selfish. You only think about yourself. You barge in with your own stories, as if someone wanted to…” Matt’s words trailed off. He reached forwards to grab a hold of the counter. Effortlessly though, he missed it by a couple of inches. In a split of second, but as if in slow motion, his eyes rolled back, as he went unconscious, before falling to the floor, dragging a chair he stumbled on, down with himself.

Andy jumped forward to hold the man, but he didn’t manage to.

He kneeled by the guitarist, shaking him to wake him up.

“Matt, you fucking cunt, if you die right now, I swear, I will kill you” he said on the verge of having a panic attack. He had no idea what to do. He forgot everything he was ever taught about first aid.

Why did the story from three weeks ago had to repeat? And why Andy was all alone in it?

Or maybe was it the fault of Craig’s lamp?

There were so many questions and possibilities and Biersack began to panic more and more.

He kicked the chair to the side and shook Matt again. When it didn’t help, he took a deep breath, trying to remember anything about helping unconscious people.

As if out of spite, he could only recall how to resuscitate.

“Come on, wake up” he said desperately and finally opened the window, hoping it would help. He glanced at the clock on the oven. Two minutes had passed, even though it felt like forever to the singer.

He started to regret his words, calling Matt selfish. It surely wasn’t like that. He blamed himself now, because he did not take into account that the guitarist was just trying his best, but everyone had a right to fail sometimes. Andy’s taught perfectionism was still a thing.

He glanced at the clock. Three minutes.

At least Matt was breathing. Things could get worse, but they did not.

“Will you wake up or do you want me to splash water on your face?” Andy asked, shaking Matt’s shoulder a little harder.

It must have worked, because the guitarist opened his eyes, covering them with his hand as soon as light stroke him.

“Did something happen?” he asked, barely conscious.

“You fainted. Again.” Andy replied, wiping his tears off when the man didn’t look. They rolled down his cheeks when the stress finally wore off.

“Oh. Sorry” Matt sat up and glanced at Six more consciously. - “Did I miss something?”

Biersack sighed with irritation.

“The breakfast” he said quietly, so as not to lash out again. He didn’t want to throw another bunch of impulsive insults at the man.

*

Sex, D.R.U.G.S. and anorexia.

All within a span of three days.

Matt agreed to go to therapy. The psychologist said without hesitation that the man was a classic example of anorexia.

To be honest, Andy felt relieved for that reason. The guitarist could finally feel… sick enough? To accept help without thinking twice. Or at least Biersack hoped so.

A week after the band broke up, Good took him on a date after BVB’s band practice before the summer tour.

They came back in the evening, after getting food and going to the beach.

“Someone must’ve dropped a flashlight in the gutter” Andy said surprised, seeing a flash of blue light from the grate. - “And the battery died” he added, because it only lasted a split of a second.

“Must’ve been the kids” Matt shrugged and opened the car. - “Are you driving?”

“Sure” Andy got in behind the wheel and sighed at a blue flash in the sky. And another one. And another. - “A storm is coming.”

The guitarist shrugged. Summer was just around the corner, thunderstorms happened often lately.

Another light flash cut the sky, but this time it was green.

The city lights probably made it seem this way.

Andy started the car and drove out of the parking lot.

“By the way, can we adopt a cat?” he asked when they stopped at a crossing a couple of minutes later. He felt as if the ground shook a little, but it might have as well been the metro train underground.

“And centipedes” Matt grinned.

“No centipedes!” Andy cringed at the thought that the worms could escape the terrarium and get under the duvet in bed. - “Just kittens.”

Matt laughed in response and glanced at another flash outside.

“Fair enough” he said finally. - “But can we have lizards too?”

Six rolled his eyes and drove further, because the light turned green.

“Only if you are going to feed them” he agreed, not really convinced.

Good smiled victoriously and leaned his forehead against the glass, glancing at the people on the street.

They spent the rest of the drive silent, except for Andy cussing out the old ladies at crossings.

“You know what, there’s one thing bothering me” Six said when they got out of the car in the underground parking. Matt sent him a questioning look. - “The lightnings have been flashing for a while now, it should start thundering too.”

The guitarist nodded in agreement and wrapped his arm around the boy, when they headed towards the lift. He didn’t really care about the weather, it was pretty common for lightnings to appear for a few hours and then disappear with no sound.

The door slided with a hiss and the lift started going upwards.

Andy clinged to Matt, as he hated places like this, nevermind the size. If only the light on the ceiling wasn’t flashing like in a horror movie.

“Hey, calm down” Good kissed his forehead and wrapped his arms around the boy tighter, just seconds before the lift jolted, as if the ropes broke.

The light flickered and went out, before the ground shook again.

And then it was over.

A sound of a lightning flicking broke the silence and a small flame illuminated the dark inside of the lift.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, because Andy was panting, terrified.

“What… what was that?” Biersack choked out and blindly reached towards the guitarist’s hand, before clinging to him. He was shaking terribly and there was no sight of the person he normally was.

“An earthquake” Matt sighed, hugging the boy tighter. - “Earlier, these weren’t lightnings. It’s called earthquake lights and appears around the time it strikes sometimes. There’s not much evidence for their validity, so it’s not spoken about often, but… fuck.”

“Are you alright?” Andy asked, trying to see something in the tiny flame of the lighter, completely ignoring Matt’s scientific talk.

“I guess, how about you?” the guitarist kicked the metal door, but it didn’t move.

“Same, I think” Six winced at the noise cause by the hit. - “So, are we stuck in here?”

There was panic in his voice. He felt like he was about to faint from terror. Getting stuck in a lift had always been an experience he wanted to avoid.

“For a moment, yeah” Matt gently stroke his back to calm him down. - “But only for a couple of minutes, there’s always emergency power” _unless it went tits up_ , he added in his mind. The earthquake seemed quite strong, but maybe they only felt it this way because they were hanging in the air. To some extent.

Somewhere in the distance, a siren of an ambulance wailed. Matt hadn’t noticed it before, but he could hear car alarms from the parking below too.

“Hey, honey, hush down” he said to Andy, when the singer started breathing rapidly again. He grabbed the boy’s wrist, regretting it instantly, because Six seemed to be on the verge of a heart attack. Matt didn’t even have to look for an artery to feel his fast heartbeat.

“I’m trying” Biersack sighed heavily, but he choked on his breath when the lighter withered.

The darkness in the lift was terrifying. He hated this phenomenon overall, no matter where he encountered it. He would kill himself if he ended up blind one day.

He still feared another earthquake would come. In addition, the noise of all the alarms made him feel uncomfortable. It wouldn’t stop.

He sighed, about to cry and leaned his head against Matt’s shoulder, closing his eyes, because it was less scary this way.

He could jump around on stage and fight the haters, sure, but he absolutely could not stand the darkness and narrow places.

The guitarist was still his back gently. It helped a bit, but not much. He wanted to get out of here, he never wished to play in horror movies and he had enough of it after a few minutes.

He opened his eyes when the darkness was suddenly illuminated by the led lights of the control pannel with floor numbers.

He pulled apart from Matt, reaching in its direction, but stopped halfway, when the light on the ceiling flickered and went back on. The soft humming of an AC appeared too and the lift started moving again.

When it stopped on sixth floor, he realized he was holding Matt’s hand so tightly, he probably cut off the man’s blood circulation.

A few seconds of waiting for the door to open seemed like forever, but it finally happened and they got out. Or more like, Biersack jumped out of the lift.

The hall seemed untouched, which was a good sign. Apparently.

They walked inside the apartment. It survived the earthquake without significant damage too.

In the living room, Andy grabbed a heavy Kerrang award the band got last year, from the floor and placed it on the shelf. It dented the wooden floor a little, which he actually did not expect. He could have given it to Matt for the fight with Craig.

He glanced around the room, that looked as if a tornado stormed through it. Books and decorations fell to the floor, creating a mess, the furniture moved away from the walls. He didn’t know if he wanted to see the state of the other rooms. They had so much cleaning ahead.

Andy sighed heavily, running his finger down a crack in the wall above the TV. Luckily, it turned out to be just a break in the paint, the concrete was still in one piece.

“Here, lemon balm” Matt stood behind him and handed him a cup of tea.

“Thank you” Andy smiled softly and let the guitarist hug him, relaxing instantly. - “It was fucking scary.”

“It was” the guitarist agreed. - “I think I’ll be using the stairs only from now on.”

  
  
  



	15. He's cold, he's dark, he's cynical

Andy covered his eyes with one hand as he sat on the bench outside the apartment building. The ambulance lights cutting the darkness blinded him more than lightnings - or maybe the so called earthquake lights - in the sky.

He was hoping for a peaceful night he would spend at home, he wanted things to be okay.

Wishful thinking.

A couple of minutes after him and Matt got inside their apartment, the janitor appeared, demanding them to go outside. Because, as he said, the building could be damaged and it needed to be checked.

Andy couldn’t care less about it in that moment, the building could collapse on him, he just wanted to sleep.

He couldn’t stay inside though, so now he was forced to sit on one of the benches in front of the building, waiting for the inspector who came here in the middle of the night, to appear and allow everyone to go back inside.

He glanced at the crowd gathered in small groups on both sides of the streets and on the small square in front of the building. At the neighbors, discussing the events vividly, reminescing them over and over.

He didn’t want to think about it all, to wonder if the car underground survived the earthquake or was it crushed with a piece of concrete from the ceiling. If him and Matt had anywhere to go at all.

He knew that catastrophes like this were common in LA. Moreover, Black Veil even happened to play in Japan during an earthquake. The only thing was that back then, they left as soon as possible. And now?

He glanced at the dark sky, illuminated with lightnings that could be either a storm or the lights Matt had mentioned earlier.

They terrified him. He didn’t know why, but even though, the sight of them made him feel anxious. To the point where he ended up nerviously playing with the edge of a gold foil he got from a paramedic. Wrapped in the material, he felt too warm, but the man insisted on it as soon as he found out Six had heart issues. Too bad every time he wanted to take it off, the paramedic looked in his direction.

The dry wind moving the thick air, brought the sound of sirens from the other parts of the town. Or maybe Andy just hadn’t noticed them before.

Just like the sound of a thunder.

Biersack clinged tighter to Matt sitting by his side. The older man was smoking what it seemed like the fifth cigarette within an hour. He wrapped his arm around the singer and huddled him closer, before kissing his head. Somehow, it helped Biersack to calm down a little.

It didn’t seem like they were going to come back home anytime soon. A walk around the neighbourhood didn’t seem like a wise idea either, given the cracked pavement. Andy couldn’t tell if they had been here before or appeared after the earthquake.

“Has Sonny responded to you yet?” he asked finally to focus his thoughts on something different than the events from the evening.

Matt mentioned something about From First To Last’s comeback the other day, now that D.R.U.G.S. was gone.

 _To steal the show from Craig_ , he said, _FFTL was always more famous._

He wanted the band to come back in the original - or closest to the original - lineup. Their former singer re-joining would give them all the headlines. Especially given his fame as a DJ now.

The band’s fans disagreed on their preferences when it came to the vocals. Half of them preferred Moore and the first two albums, the rest (including the author of this fanfiction) considered Good a better singer. _Sonny screamed as if his skin was being peeled off, Matt sounded off tune in the old songs._ The opinions were divided, but - even though the guitarist didn’t want to admit that - he missed the old times. Of course, he could sing and scream, but he couldn’t jump around the stage playing the guitar as much as he did when he was just singing. There was a comparison, they used to play “Elvis Said Ambition” this way sometimes. But the band would lose their sound without his guitar. And he didn’t want that. Besides, a frontman, he thought, should stick to one thing. If he was a singer, he ought to do just that, so he could interact with the audience. It wasn’t an easy task when doing both things at the same time. Some succeeded, he did too, but he didn’t fully like things being this way and, even though he hated to admit that - the band needed Sonny.

So he had reached out to the other man via Twitter the other day, but Moore did not respond yet. And honestly, the guitarist was starting to lose faith that he ever would.

On the other hand though, they were friends in the old days. Why would the younger man want to ignore him?

“Not yet” Matt grabbed Andy’s hand, surprised at how cold it was. - “But he’s probably just busy, all these festivals, you know…” he added quickly, fully aware that he was just trying to find an excuse for his own naivety.

“I guess so” Six shrugged and clinged tighter to the older man, closing his eyes.

The sirens in the distance became quiet, at least partly, so he calmed down a bit.

For a moment.

“Hey, you got a light?”

Matt moved a bit, still hugging Andy. The singer opened his eyes and saw a thin blonde girl standing next to them. She had an unlit cigarette in her mouth.

The guitarist was playing with a lighter so he handed it to the woman without a word. She thanked him with a nod and lighted her cigarette up. Then, before handing the lighter back to the guitarist, she sent him an inquisitive look.

“Star Wars? I love it” she said, wrapping a streak of hair around her finger, staring at the man’s t-shirt.

Andy mentally rolled his eyes, but did not say a word. This girl was clearly into Matt, so much that Six felt a wave of jealousy going through his body. Even though nothing happened yet.

“The older movies are better” the guitarist took the lighter as the girl handed it back. He put it in his pocket and loosened the arm wrapped around Biersack’s shoulder a bit.

“Definitely” the blonde girl nodded and sat on the edge of the bench. Six sent her a glare, but she didn’t seem to care much, preoccupied with her monologue about how one Star Wars character (probably Skywalker, Andy wasn’t sure, the movies made him bored whenever he tried to watch them) had their life ruined and was misunderstood and treated unfairly. The onlu thing he remembered from the series was a woman with croissant-shaped hairstyle, but that was about it.

Too bad Matt seemed to be enjoying the conversation.

Andy automatically felt jealous, more and more as the seconds passed by, as if the blonde girl could steal the love of his life.

The irrational panic that his friends would choose other people over him, because they’d get along better, the chemistry would be stronger, was back.

He couldn’t even compare, he had always been the youngest, he never graduated high school, he sucked at running and couldn’t really drink. Who would want to be friends with him?

Matt was surely only pretending to like him. He was dating him just for profit. He surely wanted someone famous by his side so he could break through with his new projects. For example. Andy knew well the paranoid anxiety did not necessarily have to equal reality, but he couldn’t control it.

He wanted to have the guitarist exclusively, just for himself. He knew well this type of relationship had no right to exist, it would be… to closed? Like a trap with no exit now? It could only work out in kindergarten, not when they both were adults.

But what was Six supposed to do with this irrational anxiety that everyone would leave and forget about him?

*

“Why do people think I have to be strong all the time and I can’t break down?” Andy asked, placing his phone on the sofa’s armrest. He just finished reading a twitter thread under one of the new articles music magazines did about him recently. It was an interview or more like - an interpretation of it. The author summarized his work in “Biersack, despite the obstacles, does not allow his illness to stop him, thus proving it does not define him.”

The fans did all the remaining work. He was now “an inspiration”, “a motivation to fight”, “an example for descendants and the lazy”. People said they’d stop feeling sorry for themselves, because he inspired them. In other words: his problems were worse than theirs.

He didn’t want it. He didn’t want them to think this way.

He was just a human, he had a right to break down like everyone else, to refuse to get out of bed. To pity himself. Of course, the compliments about being inspirational and motivational were not something that would bother him day to day, but usually the context was different. He enjoyed them when he was being compared to others and he was winning. Not when people who had no idea what they were talking about, used these phrases to put him on the pedestal of pity.

He only recently realized he didn’t have to pretend to be strong all the time, like he always would.

His parents refused to accept his mental breakdowns for some reason. It wasn’t fully bad though - they taught him to fight and not care about the little things. He wasn’t overly sensitive.

And yet, he still felt as if a breakdown did not suit his image. So far.

He feared rejection and pity after coming out with his heart issues, but he never expected to break through because of pity.

For the past couple of months, as soon as possible - tours, interviews, putting new music out - the journalists would ask him about his health. Sometimes these were innocent questions, sometimes they were too pushy, like Kate last year.

From time to time he got an impression that his organs were more interesting than his music.

He wouldn’t be surprised though, people loved stories like these.

To value their own ego only because they thought “Poor thing” and smiled pitifully on the street.

This grimace appeared sometimes too. It mainly came from the older fans or the parents of the younger ones, who were waiting some distance away from the bus, for their kids to get a photo with him, an autograph and a hug.

“Because you’re an emo in laytex leggins that always fights with the audience” Matt, preoccupied with attempts to detach a white kitten with the fur on its nose colored brown, as if sprinkled with cinnamon, from his t-shirt, interrupted Andy’s thinking.

“It’s latex, not laytex” Six rolled his eyes. - “And I’m serious. If things continue to be this way, TLC is going to contact me asking if I want to star in a program about my life. A fag with half a heart, it sounds fucking hilarious.

“A fag with no heart, points out my mistakes” Matt shrugged. - “Laytex. I think I’ve found a name for the kitten.”

The cat, seemingly interested in the change of the topic of the conversation, looked at Good with curiosity.

“You’re Laytex from now on. Just like your mom” the guitarist laughed and petted the creature behind its ear. The kitten squealed and clinged tighter to his t-shirt in response.

“You’re the one who’ll be taking him to the vet, you fucking illiterate” Biersack sighed with fake irritation, then grabbed his phone and took a photo of Matt with the kitten.

“You wanted him, I’ve got my lizards” the guitarist sent him an innocent smile and petted the cat again. It looked like another case of the “dad and the cat after a week” joke. It was really clear that Matt got attached to the stray from the animal shelter.

They adopted the kitten a couple of days ago, after they had bought two lizard they named Ashley and Craig, because - as Andy said - they were hideous and he refused to touch them. He had agreed to get them, that was true, but the moment one of them lost its tail when he grabbed it, he changed his mind.

Biersack stuck his tongue out in response and came back to scrolling through Twitter. He couldn’t stop thinking about the article, the attitude of the people, the fans. He didn’t want to feel like a cripple and it seemed everyone was trying to make him believe he was one.

He couldn’t deny he wasn’t feeling his best since the earthquake. He was having nightmares in which he ended up stuck in small, claustrophobic rooms. Something was off in those dreams, the anxiety he was feeling as the visions changed was so strong he would wake up in the middle of the night because of it sometimes. And then he would lie by Matt’s side, waiting for the sun to rise, because somehow it was less scary to fall asleep when it wasn’t dark outside.

He couldn’t explain it, maybe it was all due to the shock related to the events?

After all, before the inspector allowed them to go back inside, they had spent almost a whole night outside. And the aftermath of the earthquake was still visible everywhere. The paint on the walls was cracked in the staircase and in the apartment, reminding Biersack about everything. One of the windows on the ground floor was cracked and needed replacement too.

Besides, him and Matt had to fix the side of their car too. A lamp scratched it as it was falling from the ceiling.

Andy finally found some motivation to text a friend who was a mechanic to ask him when he would be able to do it for them and he was about to type the text, when Laytex’s hissing interrupted him.

He looked at the kitten in surprise and burst out laughing at the sight of a it running away from the lizards running across the floor. The cat got all the way up to the couch backrest and was standing there, bristled, hissing at the little dragons. Or at Matt, because it seemed like his idea to let the lizards out of the terrarium.

“You monster” Six shook his head with disapproval and jumped off the window sill to save the poor kitten.

He grabbed Laytex and took it to the kitchen with him.

There were no lizards in there.

*

Matt was struggling with insomnia again.

It was two in the morning and he couldn’t fall asleep. He hated it. This happened often, even though much more rarely than a few months ago. Maybe his biological clock, messed up because of the tours, jet lags and starvation was to blame back then, but now he wasn’t able to find an explanation to this. The only thing he could come up with was the stress of adulthood, to which he still didn’t get used to. Actually, except for the fact that his thinking process was more mature, his overall personality didn’t change much since he was a teenager. Maybe the legend of adulthood was just a myth? He wouldn’t be surprised. He surely didn’t become a boring adult, like all of them seemed when he was a child. Paying rent and taxes was just one of the very few annoying aspects of independence.

Or maybe it was Andy who made Matt’s adulthood feel more bearable?

Biersack was different than everyone the guitarist had dated so far. The distinction was clear especially when Matt though of any of his ex girlfriends. They expected maturity and seriousness from him. Nonchalance made them furious. Perhaps he was just unlucky to end up with the crazy ones.

Matt sighed heavily and glanced at Andy asleep by his side. Six was fidgeting in his sleep as if he was having another nightmare. This happened quite often since the earthquake, too many emotions were to blame.

He kissed the boy’s forehead and hugged him, noticing the gesture calmed the singer a little.

Andy cuddled to the guitarist’s chest, grabbing his arm and pulling it closer.

Matt laughed inside. Six seemed to have some sort of power, because soon Good fell asleep too.

He was woken up by the younger man’s scream. At first he thought the lizards had escaped the terrarium but things were much worse.

Andy was sitting on the bed, trying to catch his breath. Tears were running down his cheeks, he was shaking, repeatedly saying something like “No, no, please no, I can’t lose you now.”

The guitarist switched the light on and placed his hand on Biersack’s shoulder, as the man didn’t react to the lamp’s light.

“Hush, love, it’s okay” he said, caressing Six’s face with his other hand.

The singer looked at him, tears in his eyes, breathing shakily.

“It’s going to collapse” he said, terrified and glanced at the ceiling.

“It’s not, trust me” Matt replied with confidence. - “It was just a dream.”

Andy wasn’t paying attention to him, he jerked away and tossed the blanket aside.

“The ceiling fell down in the staircase, let’s go outside, please” he said in distress, looking at Matt with tears in his eyes. He was acting as if he wasn’t fully conscious yet, like he was still stuck in his nightmare. - “We have to go outside, please” he begged.

“Andy, love” the guitarist got up and walked up to the boy, grabbing his face, then continued: - “It was just a bad dream. Everything’s okay, the earthquake was…”

“The earthquake?!” Six’s face expressed pure terror now. - “Let’s go, please” he repeated.

“Andy, everything’s fine. Nothing bad is happening. Breathe, please, you need to calm down” Matt said, hoping that stroking the boy’s back repeatedly would help him somehow.

“But…” Biersack’s voice cracked as he started crying. - “Why do I keep having the same dreams over and over?”

“Because it was a traumatic event” Good forced Six to sit down on the bed, on his knees. - “It will pass, I promise. Everything’s okay, look.”

Andy stopped crying for a second and looked around. It was true, things were just fine. The sun was rising outside, a car drove down on the street, a group of people was walking somewhere nearby, laughing, as if nothing was happening. The ceiling was intact. Matt was fine.

The singer’s breath calmed a bit. Six huddled to the guitarist, playing with a streak of his hair while the older man was rubbing circles on his back.

“Are you feeling better? Matt asked after a while.

“Yeah” Andy agreed hesitantly. - “I’m sorry.”

The guitarist kissed his forehead in response.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about” he said. - “Everyone has nightmares sometimes, but you’re fine now. It was just your imagination, it won’t happen in real life.”

“Are you sure?” Six asked, as if he really needed some reassurance on that.

“I’m sure” Matt smiled softly. - “We can go somewhere for the weekend if you want, maybe a change of places could help you.”

——

I know the original lyrics from the title are about a woman, but I fell for this line so hard I had to use it in my fav fanfic.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first attempt to translate my works from my native language to English. Please feel free to point out any grammar mistakes or let me know if something doesn't make sense!


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